Staying Together Is Harder To Do
by bigeasywriter
Summary: Angela’s father, Master Sergeant Alvin Moore, meets Shawn for the first time. However, Shawn's initial good impression doesn’t very last long. Subsequently, Shawn and Angela learn that while breaking up may be hard, staying together is even harder to do.
1. Chapter 1

Staying Together Is Harder To Do

A sequel which takes place two months after "I Do Love You". Upon discovering that his daughter is in love with her new white boy friend, Angela's father, Master Sergeant Alvin Moore, finally agrees to meet Shawn. Meanwhile, Cory and Topanga are still broken up, and Cory's having a hard time adjusting to life without his girlfriend and spending less time with his best friend Shawn, who's busy with his own lady love, Angela and his new job. He hits upon a surprising solution for making his loneliness bearable that results in more complications. And Shawn and Angela learn that while breaking up may be hard, staying together is even harder to do.

Chapter One

Angela gazed at her father, a mutinous expression on her pretty face. She glanced over at Topanga who was sitting with her head down, pushing the food back and forth around on her plate, clearly uncomfortably with the strident overtones of the conversation between her best friend and her friend's father.

They were all gathered at the Moore's dining table consuming a meal which Angela had prepared that consisted of baked chicken, steam asparagus with cream sauce and brown rice. At the moment none of the diners was paying any heed to the healthy and very pretty dinner. Sergeant Moore was seated at the head of the table with Angela on his right and Topanga on his left, directly across from her best friend.

"I just don't understand why you don't want to meet him, Daddy," Angela complained, visibly upset with her father. "I just assumed that you would want to meet the guy I'm going out with."

"Angela, I'm hardly home, and when I am, I'd like to spend my time with you," Master Sergeant Alvin Moore explained to his fulminating seventeen year old daughter. "Not meeting a parade of the young men you're going out with at any given time. You know I trust you implicitly. Besides, even if I meet this—" He paused awkwardly, realizing that he didn't even know the boy's name.

Angela's eyes met the amused gaze of her friend with consternation. "Shawn, Daddy!" Angela exclaimed, outraged. "You don't even remember his name!"

"Yes, of course, I do. Shawn," Alvin Moore said. "That was just a momentary lapse. Shawn—um—Munster."

Angela looked about ready to explode. "Hunter! His name is Shawn Hunter!"

Topanga kept her eyes on her plate and tried to stifle the giggle that was rising up in her throat.

"That's what I said, Shawn Hunter," Sergeant Moore said smoothly. His lighter brown eyes roamed over his daughter's beloved and outraged features. "Even if I do meet this Shawn Hunter, by the time I get back from another trip, he'll be history, too, Angela," Sergeant Moore shrugged. "What's the point?"

Angela leaned to the side to where her father was sitting at the head of the table. "He will _not_ be history, Daddy," Angela ground out irately. "I've been dating Shawn since November of last year. It's almost May now."

Angela's father blinked. "You have?"

His petite daughter actually growled. "Yes, Daddy, I have. And Shawn's asked me to go the Prom with him." She tilted her head. "I thought you said whoever I chose as my escort had to meet you before I could accept his invitation."

Sergeant Moore looked even blanker. "I said that?" Angela's eyes narrowed dangerously, and he quickly added, "Um, oh, yeah. Of course I did. We were sitting in—ah—the kitchen," her father improvised hopefully, "sharing a late night snack before bed. See, I remember it well. That was...that was last month."

"You were outside in the garage fooling around with that smelly old car!" Angela corrected him. Her dark eyes flashed with annoyance. "And it was last week. Shawn came over to take me to the movie matinee. He wanted to meet you then, but you wouldn't take the time to do it on account of that beat up hunk of junk. You said that the only guy you needed to meet was my Prom date." She paused for dramatic effect. "Well, Shawn _is_ my Prom date."

Alvin Moore wagged a finger. He might have lost the battle, but he hadn't lost a war in his own home yet. "Hold on, Angela. Okay, so maybe I didn't remember the boy's name, or realize that you've been dating the same boy for close on six months," Angela's father admitted with belated frankness, "but that doesn't mean that I don't remember meeting me being the sole criteria required for my permission to take you to your Prom." He picked up his water glass and took a sip. "Shawn Muns-um-Hunter isn't your Prom escort—yet. And he won't be until I say so."

Angela raised a dark eyebrow. "So you'll meet Shawn, Daddy?" she asked eagerly. The skin of her dark cocoa face glowed, lit up brightly like an internal light had been turned on inside of her. "He's really anxious to meet you."

"He _is_?" her father asked skeptically. That was new. The idea that one of Angela's "boyfriends" wanted to meet her, as far as they knew, stern military father was indeed a novel approach. None of Angela's suitors had ever been "anxious to meet" him. They had been "anxious about meeting" him but that was an entirely different kettle of fish. He began to be intrigued by this Shawn Hunter. Perhaps there was more to this guy which actually required that he meet him even without the Prom date thing as the reason. He studied Angela's face. She certainly had displayed more animation talking about this Hunter young man than she had any of the other boy's she'd dated. Come to think of it, Sergeant Moore thought presently, she'd never mentioned any of the others beyond a brief detailing of their faults which he took comfort in knowing would lead to the inevitable break up after the requisite two weeks.

His eyes sharpened further as these new thoughts occurred to him. Angela was leaning forward, her dinner practically forgotten, as she talked to her friend. Alvin turned his head and gazed at Topanga Lawrence with approval. She was just the sort of young woman he would have chosen for his daughter's best friend. Smart, polite, punctual, and she came from a solid family unit. True, she was white, and now Angela was dating a white boy, but although he could find no fault with Topanga, this Shawn Hunter it seemed was proving to be another matter entirely, especially if Angela's unusual demeanor was any indication of her feelings about this particular young man.

He began to scrutinize her and realized if as for the first time that she was growing up. The scales which had been blinding him from the truth and had been allowing him to remain in his comfort zone finally fell from his eyes. Angela was now a young woman. She seemed to have grown up while he wasn't looking—while he'd been occupied traveling this last year since the move to Philadelphia. Where had his little girl gone? In her place was a lovely young woman of face and form. And apparently he was the only one who'd noticed. Apparently this Shawn Hunter had succeeded where others had failed. He'd out lasted all her previous boyfriends and now was vying to be his daughter's Prom date.

Alvin Moore groaned silently. His motherless daughter was on the verge of womanhood and this Shawn Hunter boy's pursuit of Angela began to take on a more serious tone. The memory of his own years as a teenage boy came back to haunt him with a vengeance: he'd been perpetually randy as all eighteen year old boys were. And he had little doubt that Shawn Hunter was any different.

Angela felt her father eyes on her and she paused, turning to him. "Daddy?" She frowned in concern. "You're glaring at me. Why?" Without giving him a chance to respond, she sighed with exasperation and added, "I thought it was all settled about you meeting Shawn?"

Sergeant Alvin Moore straightened his shoulders, his bearing stiff and as impressive as if he'd been standing in full military regalia, and lifted his head high as though he was observing someone under his Army command.

"Oh, that's all settled, baby. Mr. Shawn Hunter is going to get his wish." He dabbed at his lips and threw down his napkin before standing, his normally hearty appetite destroyed.

"Dinner at oh seventeen hundred this Friday night," he announced briskly to the utter surprise of his daughter and their guest. He nodded to Topanga and turned around to stalk from the room. He had a lot to think about. More than he'd bargained for when he'd sat down to dinner.

Angela stared after her father, perplexed by his inexplicable behavior. "What's the matter with him?" she murmured, talking more to herself than to Topanga.

She had also followed Sergeant Moore's dignified and stately exit from the room with interest. However, she wasn't as mystified as Angela was. She'd had a serious boyfriend for a lot longer than Angela had been dating Shawn and thought that she recognized the signs of a father's dawning realization that his little girl wasn't so little and wasn't entirely his anymore. What's more, he'd suddenly realized that he was sharing Angela with a guy he hadn't even met. However, not wanting to worry Angela, she made a general comment and the moment passed. Nevertheless, Topanga wondered if Shawn would still be so anxious to meet Angela's father if he knew what was in store for him this Friday night.

* * *

Angela turned her head, freeing her lips from the passionate kiss. As she fought to regulate her breathing, Shawn's searching mouth trailed kisses down her soft cheek and neck. She raised tentative fingers to her swollen lips. She placed her hands on both sides of Shawn's head and pulled his mouth from the base of her throat. His were cherry red and swollen too. Not only that, but the fair skin around his mouth was pink, flushed from a half an hour's worth of intense making out.

"Shawn, I came over here to talk to you. It's important. And we've done nothing but make out since we sat down," Angela complained loudly. She slapped a wandering hand for good measure. She was attempting to scoot away when Shawn holding onto her, pressed her down onto the yielding seat cushions of the red leather sofa, the expression in his light blue eyes soulful and passionate.

"Just one more kiss. I promise, baby." He said, bending his neck to kiss her smooth dusky cheek. "That's all I want."

Angela shut her eyes as his lips crept closer to her mouth, her resolve weakening. "Shawn—"

The rest of what she'd been about to say was lost as his mouth covered hers. His lips were persuasive and tender. Shawn nudged her lips open and slid his tongue inside the warm depth of her mouth. Angela melted against him with the softest of sighs and her hands slipped into his thick hair, holding his face to her. Before long, they were sprawled on the length the sofa with Shawn on top of Angela.

When Jack walked into the apartment, he was startled by what met his eyes.

Standing on the threshold stunned into immobility, Jack recovered and slammed the door shut hard.

The couple on the sofa hastily sat up. Embarrassed, Angela scrambled to pull both sides of her cardigan sweater together.

"_Hey_! What's going on here?" Jack demanded. He carelessly slung his book bag onto the chair near him, and stood with his arms akimbo, glaring at the mortified couple. Well, at least, one of the duo was sufficiently chastened by the untimely discovery.

"What does it look like, bro?" Shawn asked his older half-brother with studied nonchalance. He stepped into front of Angela, so that she was shielded from Jack's view while she button and straightened her top as he rolled his black t-shirt from down around his chest and upper back where Angela's small hands had hiked it up.

"Are you two kidding me?" Jack ripped off his cream-colored jacket with the brown velvet trimmed collar and threw that onto the chair with a force that gave a hint to his state of mind.

Before Shawn could say something flippant to make the situation worse, Angela spoke up.

"Jack, I'm really sorry. This wasn't what I came here for." She laid her hand on her boyfriend's arm, prompting him to turn from his brother to her. "I-I think I better go, Shawn."

Shawn picked up Angela's coat from where it hung over the side of the sofa's arm rest nearest the door. From behind her, he held it out for her to slide her arm into it, and then settled it in place as he wrapped his arms around her waist. He dropped a light kiss onto the nape of her neck.

"I'll borrow Jack's car and take you home," he whispered for her ears alone.

The fine hairs on the back of her neck stood up as Shawn's warm breath wafted over her skin and Angela, fighting to suppress the little frisson of excitement that coursed up her spine, turned around in his arms and glanced a little self-consciously at Jack.

"Actually, I asked Topanga to pick me up at five, and it should be close to that time now."

Jack confirmed that it was.

Angela nodded. "I'll wait for her downstairs."

"I'll come and wait with you," Shawn offered instantly.

Angela didn't look over at Jack, but she could feel the impatience emanating from him.

"Shawn, I'll be fine. It's just downstairs." She grabbed her purse from the coffee table, leaned in to kiss Shawn on the cheek. "We'll talk later."

Giving Jack a tentative smile as she passed him, she opened the door and left.

"Alright Shawn, what in the hell do you think you're doing?"

Shawn turned his head away from the closed door and sauntered over to the refrigerator. Opening it, he pulled grabbed a bottle of cola before turning his head to look at his fuming brother.

"What's the big deal?" Shawn twisted the cap off while Jack exploded.

"How can you ask me that?" he demanded in his husky voice, eyeing his younger brother with disapproval as he swilled the cola. He pointed to the sofa. "I come in here, and you're lying on top of your seventeen year old girlfriend, Shawn! She's half out of her clothes, you're clearly in an-an _excited_ state, and you can ask me a question like that?

Shawn negligently leaned against the side of the high table with his signature cocky smile curving his lips.

"You know, this is really amazing. I get a lecture from my brother who has women coming in here and leaving here at all hours. I have one girlfriend, and I'm in love with her." He shrugged off-handedly. "And so what if she's seventeen? Both Angela and I are over the age of consent according to Pennsylvania law. What do you expect from me, man?"

Jack ran a hand through his spiky brown hair. "Shawn, I'm not talking about legalities," he said advancing on him. "Or a possible unplanned pregnancy because I think you're both too smart not to use protection. But what I am talking about is the fact that both of you need to slow down. I know you two think you're in love—"

"_No_!" Shawn exclaimed, standing up straight. "We are in love, Jack. But that aside, we weren't going to do anything here." He shrugged again. "I just got a little carried away for a second, but I had myself under control." His look challenged Jack to contradict him.

Jack raised his eyes heavenward. He folded his lips between his teeth and stared at his defiant half-sibling.

"Shawn," he said after a time, "I'm only telling you this because you're my brother, and I care about what happens to you. You're starting college this fall, but you're still in high school right now." He shook the hand he'd held out at him for emphasis. "You're getting in a little too deep."

Shawn stared hard at Jack from under the prominent ridge of his heavy eyebrows. Then he slowly shook his head.

"That's where you're wrong," he stated emphatically. He pushed the hair from his forehead and came around the side of the table to stand in front of Jack. "You think you know so much about me, Jack, but you don't. I mean, we're not exactly close, now are we?"

Jack was caught of guard by the new direction of the conversation. "Shawn, you've been living with me since my freshman year at Pennbrook. We've been living together three years now. So yeah, I think I know a little something about you after all this time."

Shawn laughed harshly. "But what you left out is how we came to live together." Annoyed with entire discussion, he brushed past him, heading for the stairs to where the bedrooms were located on the next tier of the apartment. "Dad couldn't wait to dump the burden of his fifteen year old son onto you so that he could hightail it out of town and get back on the road. I wasn't enough to hold him here. Only Mom could do that, and neither one of us was enough to make her stay. She wasn't coming back, and once again, he needed to drop me off on someone else's doorstep. Unluckily for you, you came along at the wrong time and got elected. So let's not kid ourselves into believing that you weren't forced into taking me in, Jack," Shawn threw at him from over his shoulder. "I stopped believing in fairytales the first time Mom and Dad abandoned me."

The bitterness in Shawn's voice galvanized Jack. He started after him. "Shawn, that's just not true. The main reason I chose to attend Pennbrook was to be closer to you—and to get to know you. You and Dad."

Realizing that he wasn't going to get away so easily, Shawn stopped, but his attitude was belligerent.

"Look Jack, there're only a handful of people that really love me, and let's not pretend that you're one of them," he said sharply from the landing; "but Angela is. Oh, and another thing. You're not my Dad, so I'm warning you," he pointed his finger at a stunned Jack, "_don't_ try to come between me and Angela." Shawn's retreating footsteps thundered onto the second floor before he disappeared through the open doorway just opposite the landing.

* * *

A few minutes later when Eric came home, Jack was still in the living room, pacing and thinking, unable to take his mind off his brother's latent hostility, and his responsibility as Shawn's nominal guardian to take the steps necessary to protect his brother from further hurt.

Eric burst into the room with his usual exuberance. "Hey, Jackie, 'sup?" He grinned and tossed his coat and books every which way as he headed for the kitchen.

With his hands lodged firmly on his hips, Jack stopped pacing and watched as his best friend and roommate passed him by on his way to the kitchen.

"Well, for one thing, I came home to find Shawn and Angela on the sofa making out," he informed him. The residual emotions of his initial shock still finding expression in his soft voice.

Eric glanced over his shoulder and then pulled the jar of peanut butter and a box of cereal from an overhead cabinet.

"So?" He dropped them onto the table and went over to the refrigerator, pulling a loaf of bread from its top.

"So?" Jack repeated. "Is that all you have to say?"

"I meant, what's the shocker in that? Young love. Ain't it grand?" Eric sighed and began preparing his unorthodox sandwich.

"The shocker is that I found them doing the—the _horizontal mambo_!" he exclaimed, exasperated by Eric's nonchalance.

Eric's expressive winged eyebrows shot up in surprise. "_No_ way!" he cried. He continued slapping peanut butter spread onto his bread. "Go Shawn and Angela!"

"Eric! You shouldn't cheer for that," Eric's conservative friend griped. "This is my eighteen year old kid brother we're talking about and his seventeen year old girlfriend." He came over to sit on one of chrome swivel stools across from Eric. "And I may have exaggerated a little. They weren't exactly doing the—the _deed_, but I wouldn't want to bet good money on just how far they would have gone if I hadn't come home when I did."

Eric nodded, digging in the cereal box, and pulled out a handful of the sweet crunchy O shaped nuggets. He mashed them onto the peanut buttered bread and covered it with the other slice.

Jack watched him with fascinated disgust.

"So, what do you think I should do?" he asked, dragging his eyes away from the nasty looking creation to look up at his roommate.

"What do you mean what do I think you should do? Didn't you just tell me a couple weeks ago that you thought Angela had a stabilizing affect on Shawn?" Eric countered around a mouthful of sandwich. The dark brown eyes that met Jack's were a little quizzical. "I thought you liked her."

Jack groaned and ran his hands over his hair. "I do like her, Eric. This isn't about Angela," he argued. "And she has been a good influence on my brother. His grades are up. He's serious and even excited about going to college. Not even Cory could light a fire under him about attending college like she did." Jack resumed his pacing as he thought of the ease with which his brother's girlfriend had been able to guide him when neither he, Shawn's brother, nor Cory, his best friend, had been successful. "He's more focused, and if it hadn't been for her, I don't think he'd have been as gung ho about getting this job he has at the photography studio. It takes a certain amount of cash to afford a steady girlfriend. More than our Dad sends him anyway."

Eric munched and gazed at him through narrowed eyes. "And that's not all," he said, preparing to add his two cents. He looked around to see if anyone, namely Shawn, was listening. "Since he's been with Angela, we haven't had to worry about him hijacking our girlfriends either. That chick Cindy that I was dating last week came out of the bathroom the other day when I forgot that Shawn was home for the evening—he's usually with Angela or Cory like you said—and he didn't even blink an eye. You'd have thought she was invisible." Eric slammed his hand down on the table to punctuate his point. "_Shawn_! I couldn't believe it."

Jack frowned. "So what?" he demanded in confusion. "Why should he get all excited about some strange girl coming out of the bathroom?"

Eric pursed his lips for a moment. "Duh? She was wearing one of the skimpy little towels I bought specifically for that purpose," he said with a leer, "and nothing else. And dude, Cindy is _fione!_"

Jack sighed. Unwittingly, Eric had reinforced his point. "See? That's what I'm saying, Eric. Before Shawn met Angela he was juggling two or three girls a week, and sometimes two in one night. An occurrence he actually named 'Sharing the Wealth'," he said with an exaggerated eye roll while Eric gave a short bark of laughter. Bits of peanut butter and bread flew from his mouth.

"Yeah, Shawn was the ultimate playa," Eric reminisced with a sentimental light in his eye before adding with disgust, "Now he's as whipped as my little brother." He sighed regretfully and shook his head, wondering not for the first time what was wrong with those two young men who didn't seem to understand that their youth not only gave them license to philander, but it made it almost a requirement.

Turning off his internal dialogue, Eric focused his attention on what Jack was saying.

"It's not that I want him to go back to being—well, a dog, but can't there be a happy medium between being oversexed and completely sprung?" he asked, unaware that he was channeling his roommates thoughts.

Eric didn't have a pat answer and didn't try to manufacture one.

Jack rubbed a hand over his lower jaw. "I don't think I'm equipped to deal with this!" He threw up his hands in frustration. "But I'm all he has right now until Dad comes back, Eric. What in the _world_ is wrong with our little brothers?" he asked curtly, his heavy eyebrows snapping together ferociously. "Two love sick, tame puppies. It isn't normal, man. It's just not _normal_!"

Eric shrugged and finished his sandwich. "You get used to it after a while." He picked up a napkin and wiped his hands. "Cory's been with Topanga for so long that it's kinda weird now that they're broken up. But I never worried about him getting in over his head, well, because let's face it, Cory's 'safe'. Unlike Shawn," he added pointedly.

Jack groaned. "You see, that's what I'm worried about. Shawn's hardly _safe_," Jack agreed unhappily. "He's more—more _sexual _than Cory, but up until now, I got the impression that while he may have experimented a lot, he still hadn't quite gone all the way. And I took comfort in that. But now…" he trailed off, the direction of his thoughts obvious, "…Angela's in love with him, or so he says, and that means that she's not going to stand a chance against him if he wants their relationship to go to the next level. And from what I saw on that sofa, he does."

Eric leaned forward eagerly. "You want I should tell my Dad to have a talk with him?"

Jack thought about that a moment, but wagged his head.

"No," he replied disheartened. "Shawn would resent his interference." Hard on the heels of saying that, Jack suddenly perked up. "Maybe I should talk to Angela's Dad."

Looking at Jack askance, Eric cringed. "And tell him what exactly?" He screwed his expressive face into a replica of Jack's. " 'Sergeant Moore my brother wants to bone your daughter _really, really_ bad," he declared whimsically, mimicking his friend's husky voice. Then adding in his normal one, "If you think that Shawn would resent my father talking to him, what do you think his reaction's going to be if you go to _Angela's_ with something like this? Oh, and don't forget that your face is likely gonna be beaten into pulp."

Jack didn't need to be convinced further that his idea was a bad one. In fact, while he was reluctant to offend his brother and incur his wrath, he realized that he hadn't fully thought out how awkward it would be to go to Angela's military father with the news of his daughter's impeding loss of virginity to his younger brother.

He winced and started to sweat just from the thought of that meeting. Shawn's older brother looked up at Eric at little helplessly. "So there's nothing I can do, is there?"

Eric shook his head and looked on sympathetically. "I'm afraid not, man." He got up and came around to lay a supportive had on Jack's shoulder. "It's not easy being a parent is it?"

"No, it's not." He looked down despondently. "No wonder my Mom calls me everyday. Can't say I blame her now." His expression changed abruptly as a horrible thought occurred to him. His dark brown eyes widened with shock. "So this means that I'm going to have to trust Shawn's judgment."

Eric inclined his head. "Yeah, that's about the size of it. But look Jackie, it's not as bad as it seems. I've known Shawn a lot longer than you have, and he's a good guy deep down. He's been through a lot in his life, and he's come through all of it." Shawn's best friend's brother's voice grew even firmer with conviction. "He has good in him that _he_ doesn't even know is there. And Angela seems like a smart girl. Try not to worry too much, Daddy. They're goods kids." Eric thumped him on the back and headed for the stairs.

Jack heard the door to Eric's bedroom close and slumped over the table. He felt wholly inadequate to deal with having the responsibility for two love struck teenagers on his hands. For all of Shawn's cocky bravado, Jack knew that he was emotionally fragile with major abandonment issues. So many things could go wrong with Shawn's fledgling romance that could send him spiraling out of control that Jack, who at twenty-one was more experienced in the ways of the world, couldn't suppress an involuntary shudder. So here he was like all parents and guardians before him having to just hope for the best. That was going to be easier said then done.

* * *

**A/N:** Next chapter, Shawn finds out something from a surprising source about Angela that shakes his confidence in their compatibilty!


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

The students spilled out of the classroom eagerly, having barely waited for Mr. Feeny to announce that class had been cancelled due to an impromptu meeting at the County school board which, as the principal of John Adams High, he was compelled to attend.

"Man, if only this could happen with all our classes everyday until graduation," Shawn declared as he and Cory strolled out of the class together. He turned his head to look behind him and saw Angela talking with Topanga over by the door. "I wish you two wold hurry up and get back together." A heavy scowl of displeasure adorned his handsome face. "The longer this separation goes on, the more Angela thinks she has to baby sit Topanga, and it's starting to cutting in on my time. She and Topanga might be girlfriends, but she's my girlfriend," he huffed. "That implies that I'm entitled to certain privileges. I'm the first one in line for quality time."

Cory nodded as Shawn continued grumbling about Angela's preoccupation with Topanga, aware that since Shawn had started working a couple of months ago, he had to plan his free time with care.

"I wish my parents would let me get an after school job," he griped. "Then maybe I wouldn't have so much time to think about how I've screwed up everything or how much I miss Topanga."

Shawn wagged his head, a knowing look in his eyes. "Well, yeah, it sucks that your parents keep harping on about you maintaining your grade point average." He dropped down onto the sea green sofa in the senior's corner across from their class. "What's the big deal anyway? School's almost over. It's too late to improve our standings now."

"Au contraire, Hunter! I beg to differ with you!" Stuart Minkus exclaimed loudly, causing the heads of several of the other seniors in the area to turn their heads to look over in his direction. As if that had been his plan, Stuart smiled and coyly waved to Angela and Topanga who had also looked up to see what he was shouting about.

The girls smiled diffidently and returned to their conversation.

"Minkus." The boys sighed simultaneously. Here he was always showing up like the perennial bad penny.

Shawn tilted his head and looked up at the annoying, self-important little dweeb. He smirked at the shocking hank of red hair and the horn rimmed glasses that turned Minkus's rather large blue eyes into beady little pebbles. He allowed his eyes to travel down to the striped red and blue shirt, tightly belted at the waist of his light tan pants with two inch thick cuffs hovering above brown penny loafers.

Shawn turned his head away from the irritating young man to glance at Cory whose face mirrored his feelings exactly.

"What do you want now, Minkus? Can't you see we were having a private conversation?" Shawn said rudely.

"Well, I couldn't help but overhear." He didn't seem offended in the least as he casually leaned against the side arm of the sofa. He clutched a set of notebooks and books to his thin chest. "You were talking about grade point averages and class standings." He pulled out two sheets of paper stapled together from inside one of his notebooks. "I didn't think either of you had seen this." He held them up triumphantly. Steel braces somewhat harnessed Minkus's prominent overbite as he smiled.

Shawn eyed him suspiciously, but took the sheets Minkus was holding out to him. Somewhat grudgingly like he was doing the other guy a favor, he lowered his eyes to peruse the first page. His heavy dark eyebrows shot up in surprise. It was a comprehensive listing of their senior class rankings and grade point averages. He looked up quickly while Cory leaned over to take a look at it.

"Where did you get this?" Shawn demanded forthrightly. He waved the papers at the gloating boy. "These stats aren't supposed to be out for another week."

Minkus's smile widened. He transferred his gaze to the folded fingers and fingernails of one hand before rubbing them on his shirt front as though to impart a shine.

"Yes, Hunter, I know it isn't. But you see I have a certain standing around here as class president," he boasted, rocking back and forth importantly on the heels of his shoes. "Read it and weep, Hunter. Go on; I dare you."

Shawn's soft lips tightened. Was he imagining it or was there a distinct gleam of malice reflecting through the glass of the little rodent's spectacles? Giving him a last glare of resentment, Shawn sat the sheets on his lap, bent his head and began to read. He swiftly sucked in a sharp breath as he recognized an unexpected and familiar name near the top of the list: No. 12. Angela S. Moore – GPA 3.8.

"I have great respect for Angela," Stuart announced, his eyes bright with an admiration that Shawn wasn't entirely sure was based on her academic achievements alone. "She has a superior mental capacity for learning. If she hadn't been in as many as five different high schools in four years, she'd be giving Topanga and me a run for our money for Valedictorian. Good schools, all of them, too. That's why her landing in twelfth place on the senior class scholastic roster is quite an impressive accomplishment." He winked knowingly. "As it is, she'll probably crack the top ten before the semester's over."

Shawn frowned. "And just how would you know that?" he asked, upset.

Minkus merely gazed at him with a superior look in his eyes. "Oh, I have my sources, Hunter." His horn-rimmed eyes traveled back to the conversing friends. Minkus sighed again. "I'll never understand how either one of you guys," he said with a disparaging tone in his voice, "managed to get women like those." His chin sunk onto his hand as he stared at the two hot yet intelligent young women.

Shawn took his turn and looked down his nose at Minkus. "And that's precisely why you never will," he said cuttingly, giving a good imitation of Stuart's snide biting wit. He didn't like the look in the little weasel's myopic eyes as he gazed at Angela.

"Hey! Stop drooling over my girlfriend!" he spat, outraged.

Minkus took his time turning his head away and favored Shawn with another of his infuriatingly provoking glances. "There's no way you're going to be able to hold onto that," he taunted Shawn, carefully moving out of the range of his hands. "If she hasn't dumped you before graduation, I'll eat my cap in front on everyone!" With that last sally, he quickly loped off down the hall. A sea of milling students engulfed his diminutive form.

Cory kept his hand on Shawn's shoulder, holding him back from following the impertinent little jerk.

"Shawn, he's not worth getting expelled over," Cory warned him. "Minkus is just trying to rub your nose in-in—"

"In my mediocrity? In my having a girlfriend who's obviously a hundred times smarter than I am?" Shawn inquired sarcastically, turning to him. "I mean, I knew she was smarter than me, but—"

"Alright, Shawnie. Calm down. Angela doesn't care about that. Besides, it's not so much that she's smarter," he began with soothing diplomacy; "it's more you waiting until senior year to really start applying yourself to your school work."

Shawn shook his head, rejecting his logic. "No, Angela _is_ smarter than I am, Cory. That I never doubted," he admitted candidly. "I just didn't know how _much_ smarter." He tilted his to one side, eyeing his friend thoughtfully. "Actually, she's smarter then the both of us put together."

Cory raised his eyebrows. He'd already acknowledged Angela's intellectual acumen, but this was going a little too far. He thought Shawn's insecurity complex was rearing it's head again and spilling over onto him, Cory.

Shawn correctly identified the emotion showing on Cory's face as prideful resistence. "Okay, I'll prove it to you." He narrowed his eyes speculatively at his friend. "In all the years we've known her, how many times has Topanga asked one of us to study with her?"

Cory opened his mouth eagerly. The silence stretched out long until it covered a full minute. When it dawn on him that he couldn't recall a single time, he closed it just as promptly.

"Well, that doesn't prove anything!" he blustered uncomfortably.

Shawn emphatically nodded his head in disagreement, a knowing gleam in his blue eyes. "Oh, yes does! There's no way Topanga would ever jeopardize her GPA by studying with someone she didn't think was her intellectual equal. And that's why," he said slapping his knee, "neither one of us has ever studied with her. She's known Angela less than a year, and they're thick as thieves. Not only as best friends but as study partners."

"Well, what does that have to do with you?"

"Are you kidding me?" Shawn snapped querulously. "Cory, we have a senior class of three hundred and fifty-nine students. According to the placement stats, I'm," he paused to set his coffee down and pick up the papers, flipping the first sheet over to get to the second page, "at _two forty-six_." Shawn threw the list down in frustration. "At one seventy-nine, you're at least in the top half of the class, Cor. Topanga is tied with Minkus for the number one spot and Angela, who _just_ transferred to John Adams last year, is ranked at number twelve with a good chance of moving into the top ten according to the brainiac who's anal enough to keep track of something like that." He made no attempt to hide his disgruntlement. "What's wrong with this picture?"

"I still say, 'What's the big deal', Shawnie?" Cory kept his eye on Dillon Abercrombie who had stopped to talk to Topanga. "So what if our girls are smarter than we are. I always knew that Topanga was smarter than me and would achieve more."

"Yeah, we'll you've had six years since we were in the seventh grade to get used to that." Shawn reminded him. "What if Angela decides I'm not good enough for her?" Shawn asked anxiously. Then a greater calamity occurred to him. He turned to Cory urgently. "Cory, what if both of them decide to go out of state to an-an Ivy League or a Big Ten college? Where's that going to leave us? All I got accepted into was Penn State and Pennbrook. And Pennbroke only accepted me after I was wait-listed."

"Well, Topanga applied to Yale, was wait-listed, and as far as we know—and you would know this better than me—Angela hasn't applied to any out of state schools."

Shawn was quiet. He didn't think that Angela had. But then again, he hadn't known that she had the kind of grades to get accepted into such schools. She hadn't talked much about college since they'd all found out that they'd been accepted into Pennbrook. In light of her surprising grade point average and standing in their class, he found her silence on subject a little strange as well as worrying.

Cory finally took his eyes from his old rival and looked at his clearly bothered friend.

"Shawnie, you had to have suspected that Angela wasn't exactly your run of the mill girl. Hello? Who carries around books of poetry and classical music CDs?" he asked seriously. "She's artistic, musical and has a social conscious. I mean, she plays guitar and even has a membership in Greenpeace."

Shawn groaned and grabbed his head. "I know, I know. The same things that made me fall in love with her are some of the things that are scaring me now. I-I just never associated all of that with just how smart and accomplished she was." Shawn's worried blue eyes met Cory's inquiring brown. "Take Topanga, for instance. She's vocal about her intelligence and talents. She answers all the questions any of our teachers ask," he said, ticking off her idiosyncrasies on his fingers. "She volunteers to do extra assignments. She puts herself forward, Cory. I thought that's how all really smart people were." He sounded chagrined by his mistake.

Cory eyed his friend sympathetically as he fished around for a soothing answer. "Well, Angela's more reserved than Topanga, Shawn. And she's relatively new here. I didn't know she'd been in five schools in four years." He shrugged. "Maybe she just doesn't feel as comfortable as Topanga does. We've been here since ninth grade, and most of our classmates came from the same junior high. We all grew up together. It's different for Angela."

"I guess you're right." Shawn's unexpected exclamation startled Cory. "Look at this!" He'd retrieved the list and had been studying it again.

Cory obediently peered at the list.

"Can you believe that that lunk head jock, Ted Brazelton, is in the top twenty?" Shawn crushed the paper up in his fist. "I'm ranked in the bottom half of our class, Cor." His confidence had suffered a major blow. "What's Angela going to think when she sees this next week?"

Cory was tired of talking about how underachieving each of them was in contrast to their seemingly brilliant girlfriends. He said the first thing came into his head.

"You still trying to get Angela to sleep with you?"

That snapped Shawn out of his depressed stupor. "Cory!" he cried, looking around self-consciously. "I don't want the whole world to know my business!"

Cory looked suitably chastened. "Sorry, buddy." Shawn reluctantly inclined his head in acceptance of his apology. "But have you?" he added injudiciously.

Shawn raked a hand through his hair and sighed loudly. "I'm working on it," he said shortly, trying to discourage any more questions.

"Shawn, you don't think maybe you're going a little fast." He'd known Topanga for far longer than Shawn had Angela. And here he was about to hit a home run while Cory wasn't even up at bat with him and Topanga on the outs. He couldn't help but feel a little jealous.

"No, I _don't_," Shawn bit out sharply, overly sensitive at this point to any implied criticism after Jack's harangue about the same subject. "Angela loves me, and I love her. It's the perfect time for us to be together." His eyes narrowed with determination. "That's why I've got to meet her father."

Cory frowned, clearly bewildered. "You're going to ask him for his permission?" he asked hesitantly.

Shawn turned his head and glared at him. "Don't be ridiculous!"

Cory's brow cleared. "Okay, well then, why do you _want_ to meet Angela's father?" He still couldn't figure out why Shawn, avoider of all things complicated, wanted to meet his girlfriend's father.

"Because Angela won't have me over until I do meet him." When Cory stared at him blankly, Shawn patiently added in explanation, "Our first time together is important, Cory, and I don't want Angela to feel uncomfortable or-or strange. So I figure the best place for us would be her house when her father's away on military business. He's always traveling. Things really couldn't have worked out better."

"How so?"

Shawn stared at him a moment, a derisive light in his eye. "I asked Angela to go the prom with me, of course," he replied with a slightly cynical smile on his lips, "and now, wonder of wonders, Daddy _finally_ wants to meet me to see if I'm worthy of being Angela's prom date."

The tone of Shawn's voice sounded unmistakably disgruntled. Cory knew that he believed that Angela's father hadn't wanted to meet him prior to this because of the color of his skin.

Shawn hadn't finished and was speaking again. "But this time it works out in my favor because once that 's over, Angela won't feel so weird about me being in the house alone with her while dear old Dad's away on government business," Shawn crowed with satisfaction and rubbed his hands together in anticipation of the many nights of intimacy to come.

"What about your apartment?"

Shawn adamantly shook his head. "N. O. Absolutely not! Jack and Eric have one girl after another going in and out of the place. I don't think I've ever seen either of them with the same one twice yet." Again, he shook his head. "That's no place for Angela. I don't want them smirking and looking at her like-like she's just some girl, Cory. People still hold girls to a double standard. Angela's special. I won't subject her to being talked about. "

There was no mistaking the sincerity behind Shawn's words. Cory nodded slowly, thinking that he was beginning to get some small measure of understanding.

"Well, what made you decide all this?"

"You remember the party last weekend?" Shawn's blue eyes narrowed as he regarded his friend. "The one at Jerry Newberry's house?"

Cory remembered it well. "Yeah. How could I forget it," he said sourly. "Topanga brought a date."

Shawn steered the conversation back to his story. "Well, I took Angela down into the basement." Shawn paused and turned himself a little in Cory's direction on the sofa. "You know that Jerry's parents have got a separate room down there, right? I suppose it's for guests or something."

"Yeah, go on," Cory encouraged him eagerly. He was getting over his initial pique at Shawn's promise of sexual fulfillment in the not to distant future. His own love life sucked, and this was getting good.

"Well, like I said, I was down there with Angela. Picture this," he urged Cory, holding up his hands like he was framing a scene from a movie: "dim lights, R&B music playing low, and all these other couples strewn around on two huge leather sofas and a couple of chairs, making out and waiting for their turn in 'the room'. I was seated in one of the chairs nearest the room with Angela sitting in my lap." With a faraway look, he stared into the past. When he didn't say anything for nearly a minute, he got an impatient nudge in the ribs. Shawn colored up. "Oh, sorry. Um, well, to make a long story short, she and I were, well, going at it hot and heavy—very heavy—when this guy who's been in with this chick comes over and tells me the room's all mine."

"Yeah, yeah," Cory uttered with bated breath. "What happened then?"

Shawn sighed and shook his head at the memory. "Well, Angela was definitely in the mood, and so was I." Shawn's preened a little here with his usual cocky bravado before growing serious again. "But the strangest thing happened," he said, frowning down at his hands as he sat forward with his arms resting on his legs. "Even though the lights were low, I could still see her face. Cory, Angela gazed at me with this—trusting look in her eyes—with more love than I've ever seen in anybody's for me—and the next thing I know," he threw up his hands, "I'm telling the guy to pass our turn onto the next couple. I hustled Angela out of there and back upstairs so fast I made my own head spin."

Cory was flabbergasted. He spread his hands. "But why, Shawnie? Why? You passed up a chance at a sure thing?" As someone who hadn't even remotely had a chance of getting to first base with his own girlfriend, he was willing to live vicariously through his friend's sexual adventures.

Shawn ran his hand over his mouth and got up to lean against the wall. Cory stared up at him as though in shock.

Shawn groaned. "Don't look at me like that, Cor!" he cried, rather embarrassed by his own corniness. "Why didn't you tell me that being in love came with such a heavy responsibility?"

"I-I didn't know that it did," Cory admitted slowly and without shame. "I could always depend on Topanga to shoot me down, so I never had to be responsible for choosing the right time or place."

Running his hand through his center parted hair, Shawn leaned his head back against the wall.

"Well, to be honest that was the first time Angela's ever given me a clear go ahead." He pushed himself off the several years old off white colored wall, going to grab a cup of coffee from the coffee table over by the janitor's closet.

"I don't know. Maybe I panicked. What I do know is Angela trusts and loves me. I couldn't have her first time be in some room and bed where there's been an assembly line of people having sex. That's not what I want for her," he said with distaste plainly written on his face, and added somewhat to his own surprise, "or for me."

Cory tilted his head. "Shawnie, can I ask you a personal question?"

Shawn looked up from pouring his coffee. "Technically.'

His friend frowned. "Huh?"

Shawn smiled ruefully and took a sip of coffee as he ambled over, easing down next to Cory on the old green sofa. He lifted his right leg to rest on the knee of his left.

"I'm what you'd call a technical virgin." He raised a heavy dark brown eyebrow. "That was what you were going to ask, wasn't it?" he speculated.

Cory was impressed with the accuracy of his guess. "Well, yeah. But—how come?" He shrugged. "I've seen you in action with countless girls, Shawn. Well, not in action '_action_', but you know what I mean. It's not like you haven't had the opportunity." Truth be told, Cory was slightly envious of the breath of opportunity that his friend had enjoyed with the opposite sex. Not that he didn't love Topanga and wasn't totally committed to her, but sometimes especially here lately with Topanga and him broken up, he wondered what he might have missed out on.

Unaware of Cory's thoughts, Shawn replied candidly, "I don't know. I never really thought about it before. Maybe it was the type of girls I was dating, and what they were willing to do." He rubbed his ear thoughtfully. "You know, after Jill Howager refused to go out with me back in ninth grade because I lived in the trailer park, I realized that I needed to stick to my own kind. Yeah, I dated Dana and Jennifer for a short time each, but good girls—and Jennifer was one even if she was a stuck up princess—weren't my speed." His face softened visibly. "Until Angela, that is. I'm ready to do what I wasn't with those other girls, Cory." He glanced over to where Angela, Topanga and a group of their girlfriends were standing near the doorway to Feeny's class. "Maybe I did unconsciously hold back that part of me, waiting for the right girl. A girl who really gets me. One who understood who I am and loves me anyway."

"And that girl is Angela." Cory was once again impressed with his friend's acumen.

Shawn turned his head and his blue eyes met Cory's. "That girl is Angela," he repeated softly, nodding his head. A bow-like smile curved the edges of his mouth.

"So this is about more than just sex?" Cory inquired.

"It's about a lot of things, man."

"What's about a lot of things?" Angela asked, walking up on the hind end of their conversation.

Shawn's face lit up at the sound of her voice. He got up immediately and snaked an arm around her waist before leaning over to lay a gentle kiss on one smooth cheek.

"Hey, baby."

Angela smiled and placed her small hand against his chest. "Hey there yourself," she replied smartly. She looked up at him, a question in her dark eyes. "You have to work this afternoon down at the photography studio, right?"

Shawn raised his free arm and gazed down at his silver toned watch. "Yeah. I was just waiting for you before I left. Cory's going to give me a ride."

Angela sighed and made a moue of displeasure. "I was hoping you could come with us."

Shawn shook his head. "Duty calls. Besides, without this job, I wouldn't be able to afford to take you to out to do all the fun things we've been doing these last couple of months. The movies, plays and symphonies. Oh, and how about that Alvin Alley Dance Troup show I took you to last month."

Angela's eyes glowed. Her face became animated. "Oh, that was the best, Shawn." She turned to look at Cory. "Can you believe that he actually surprised me with those tickets? You of all people know how terrible Shawn is at keeping anything secret," she said with an exaggerated eye roll.

Cory laughed, got up and went over to join them. "Yeah, he's pretty hopeless, our Shawnie is," he agreed teasingly. "Those tickets were burning a hole in his pocket for two weeks. One more day, and he'd have spilled for sure."

"Okay, you two. I'm not that bad," he countered quickly.

Angela and Cory looked at each other and then at him.

"Okay, well, so maybe I am."

The three friends grinned at one another companionably. Topanga glanced over at them and left the group of girls to come over to stand near her friend but still sort of on the outskirts of the group. She and Cory were still broken up. And Topanga had actually begun seeing a guy she'd met at an art exhibit at the local Museum.

Cory and Topanga stood eyeing each other awkwardly.

"Hey Cory."

"Topanga," he said a little coolly, still hurt by her dating another guy.

While Angela observed the two estranged lovers anxiously, Shawn looked his girlfriend over with admiring eyes. "Did I tell you how pretty you looked today?"

Angela laughed. It mimicked a cascade of harmonious musical notes. Sobering, she assumed a thoughtful expression, saying lightly, "Hmmm, let's see. Yeah. Yeah, I think you did. Actually this would be the _fourth_ time today." However, she didn't sound displeased.

Shawn grinned and held her tightly against him. "So where're you and Topanga heading off to?"

Angela's slight hesitation was imperceptible. "Oh, um," she replied airily, "a bunch of us are going to hang out at the mall."

"Yeah, that's right," Topanga confirmed, turning her shoulder to Cory to address her two friends. She was glad to be able to contribute to the conversation and in her eagerness to avoid further uncomfortable contact with her ex, spoke without thinking. "A couple of the lettermen invited a bunch of us to celebrate their getting into Stanford." She shrugged off-handedly. "Angela and I have been studying so hard that we thought we'd tag along before we hit the books again."

His eyes narrowing, Shawn stared at Topanga. A slight furrow creased the smooth skin between his brows.

Hoping against hope that she was wrong for anticipating trouble, Angela nevertheless cast her eyes up to the ceiling, a pained expression stamped on her pretty features. During the uncomfortable silence that ensued after Topanga's slip, Angela, forcing herself not to fidget, dropped her eyes to the ground as Shawn's arm fell from around her waist. He turned from Topanga to his girlfriend. Vigilant blue eyes examined her.

"Lettermen, huh? _Which_ couple of lettermen exactly?" he inquired suspiciously. When Angela bit her lip and didn't respond right away, his blue eyes sharpened even more, boring into the graceful profile of his girlfriend.

He'd seen Dillon Abercrombie, same as Cory had hovering around Topanga. Who he hadn't seen was Ted Brazelton, but where Dillon was, Ted, his co-captain and best bud, was usually not too far away. Shawn surmised that he'd probably missed him while he'd been wrangling with another type of irritant, one Stuart Minkus. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that Ted would be sure to be present at the so-called celebration. He'd made it a habit to be wherever Angela was these days.

Topanga, who realized her mistake as soon as the words had left her mouth, said hastily, "Ange, I-I'm going to wait for you in the car." After glancing briefly at Shawn, making an inward plea for him not to go all dramatic on her friend, she spun around and walked away.

Although not always the most tactful of people, Cory, too, decided that a strategic exit was warranted. He tentatively approached Shawn and laying a hand on his shoulder, told him that he'd also be waiting for him in his car.

Shawn's curt nod was the only indication he gave of having heard him. Cory scooped up his book sack and took it as his cue to leave.

"Well, Angela," Shawn began, coming around to stand squarely in front of her. He crossed his arms and planted his feet apart. He gazed down at her bowed head.

"Well what, honey?" she asked airily.

"Don't play like you don't know what I'm asking. It's a simple question requiring a simple answer."

Angela released a long sigh and lifted her head. "Shawn, it's no big deal, really, honey."

"_Well_," Shawn cried, throwing his arms wide in a grandiose gesture indicative of just how upset he was, "if it's no big deal, I should have gotten a straight answer by now, huh?"

Angela gazed into hard, critical orbs which normally looked at her with a gentle and loving expression in their depths. They'd been so happy for the last couple of months that she hadn't seen the reoccurrence of this unreasonable jealousy Shawn harbored toward her ex-boyfriend in quite some time. Reminding herself that she was crazy about the sweet, sensible version of the young man standing so confrontationally before her, she threw herself into the impending fray without exercising the proper amount of caution.

"Dillon and-and Ted got into Stanford," she announced brightly, and laid a hand on one of Shawn's folded arms. "They invited a bunch of us to get some pizza and-and celebrate. Isn't that great, baby?"

Shawn pursed his lips and looked away for a moment before turning his head back to her.

"Oh yeah, that's the best news I've heard all day!" he exclaimed with biting sarcasm. "Angela, I don't want that guy anywhere around you."

"But _why_?" Angela asked bewildered by his attitude. "I thought we'd settled this obses--_thing_ about Ted months ago, Shawn."

"Yeah, we did when Teddy boy was going out with Tabitha Johnson. But that only lasted a minute. Then he dated and just as quickly dumped Teresa Gilliam, Deborah Washington and Keisha Davis," her irate boyfriend cataloged off the top of his head.

Angela's mouth fell open. She stared at Shawn quizzically. "You've sure been keeping close tabs on Ted's romantic life. Even I didn't know about Keisha."

Spots of deep pink color flooded Shawn's pale skin. "Okay, so I know a little something about who the guy's been dating," he admitted uncomfortably and rushed on to make his case, "The point is, Angela, that none of them lasted because the guy's still hung up on you!"

Angela gripped both of his arms. "Shawn—"

"I've seen the way he looks at you, and if he doesn't quit," he warned with a martial light in his blue eyes, "I'm going to poke his eyes out!"

Shawn went on to mumble and grumble some more about the fickleness of Ted Brazelton and the crush he had on Angela until she leaned forward and pressed her mouth to his to shut him up.

It was immediately effective. Shawn piped down and returned her kiss. After a long minute, Angela pulled away and looked up at him.

Shawn opened his eyes, saw her watching him anxiously, and caved. "Okay, I'm being an idiot again." He unfurled his arms and pulled her to him, linking his fingers together behind her back.

"Yeah, but you're my idiot," Angela said in a gently teasing tone, "who doesn't have to worry about other guys."

Shawn smiled, his happiness restored. "I _know_ I have nothing to worry about." He gazed down into her eyes. "Have fun at the mall. Okay?"

Angela sighed with relief. "Thank you, baby." She stood on tiptoe with puckered lips and kissed his mouth. "I will now, you silly ass."

Shawn removed one arm but kept the other about her slender waist.

"Hey, I know I'm an ass, but you do still love me?" he asked quietly, a subtle but still detectable note of anxiety in his voice. The deep set blue eyes probed hers.

"Yes, of course, I do." Angela slipped her arm around his and together they walked down the hallway, arm in arm, parting only at the front entrance of the building after a long lingering kiss before heading in the opposite directions toward their respective rides.

* * *

**A/N:** Coming up. Shawn meets Sergeant Moore, and things get a little heated between Shawn and Angela.


	3. Chapter 3

Thanks for the feedback and reviews. Now, here's the next chapter.

_Chapter Three_

Shawn fiddled with his the collar of his shirt, and then the cuffs of his jacket. He lifted one leg, vigorously rubbing the toe of his dress shoe against the back of his dark pants before repeating the action with the other. He wasn't sure that they were shiny enough.

"Shawn, please stop tugging at your clothes," Angela asked him softly. She gently tucked the collar of his dark blue blazer under the dress shirt's light blue collar. "Why are you so nervous? You look incredibly handsome."

Shawn was so preoccupied with his shoes that he hardly heard her. He rubbed the offending object harder on his pants' leg. "I'm not sure that I got all of the blacking off my shoes when I polished them." In response to her look of exasperation, he lowered his leg and raised his hands to cover hers, holding them in his.

"Baby, I just want to look presentable for your father," he stressed anxiously. "I want him to like me, Angela. You're the one who said that he was a stickler for the conventions. That's why I bought these clothes and these shoes."

"I see you're wearing a tie again." She sighed, shaking her head. She was referring to their first date as a real couple when she's asked him never to go so far out of character as to wear a tie. Now here he was in one anyway. It was just so not Shawn.

"Well, I thought he might take offense if I looked like I wasn't taking this first meeting with him seriously."

Angela loosed the tie and pulled it off. "It's too much, Shawn. You'll look like you're trying to hard. Trust me. He'll love you if you'll just be yourself," she assured him, mitigating the chiding with a kiss.

Shawn's arms came up and around her, pressing her to him. When a loud "Harrumph" split the air, he jumped back from her as though scalded by a shower of hot water.

Angela swung around. "_Daddy_!" She exclaimed happily and ran over to give him a hug.

"Sergeant Moore, sir!" Shawn cried, red-faced.

"Young man," Angela's father said in acknowledgement.

Angela, pressed up against her father's side, frowned up at him. "_Shawn_, Daddy," she said in a soft undertone.

Sergeant Alvin Moore nodded, and keeping one arm around his daughter, extended one large hand to his guest.

Shawn stared at the huge appendage and then hastily ran his clammy palm down one side of his pants.

"How do you do, sir?" Shawn croaked out rather hoarsely, and was immediately embarrassed. He couldn't understand why this meeting had him so jumpy. He who'd never cared what anyone much less a girl's parents thought of him felt more intimidated then he'd ever felt by another person in his life. In the past, if they didn't like him, then he just moved on to another girl. And there was the rub in this instance. He loved Angela and couldn't afford to be cavalier as he had before he'd met her. Too much was at stake. He didn't want to move on to another girl. He couldn't. He had to win Sergeant Moore's approval. So much depended on it, and even more importantly, Angela was counting on him to make a good impression. He wouldn't disappoint her.

"So, Shawn, why don't we go into the living room and talk for a bit before dinner." He released Angela and looked down at her from the imposing height of his six feet six inches. "I think you might want to check on our dinner, honey." He favored Shawn with a conspiratory grin. "Make sure everything that's supposed to be moist and juicy stays that way and what's supposed to be crisp and crunchy remains so."

Receiving the not so veiled order to leave them alone with so-so grace, Angela smiled encouragingly at Shawn before exiting the room for the kitchen.

Both men watched her go with conflicting emotions.

Angela's father turned around. "Well," Alvin Moore boomed startling his daughter's boyfriend, his manner brisk, "sit down—_Shawn_."

Shawn nodded and obediently moved to follow his directive, walking behind him from the small foyer past the stairs to the living room just beyond. He headed for the stiff wingback chair upholstered in bright red chenille which was appropriate since Shawn felt like he was in the hot seat. He sat down gingerly on its edge. All the eagerness he'd demonstrated with Cory two days ago had drained away when the enormity of the situation had finally dawn on him. This man held his and Angela's fate in his hands. The thought made Shawn tightly clasp his hands together between his wide spread legs to still the random tremors as he leaned slightly forward.

"So, you've been dating Angela for six months now." He eased himself into a recliner that was large enough for him not to appear incongruous in it. He was casually dressed, Shawn noted, feeling a little overdressed himself and thankful that Angela had at least spared him the burden of the tie by removing it. He undid the top button at his collar and felt like he could breathe a little easier as he responded to Sergeant Moore's inquiry.

"Yes, sir." So far so good, he thought, feeling comfortable enough to add, "Since the end of last October."

Alvin Moore narrowed his eyes. "Exclusively?"

"Yes, sir." Shawn nodded. "Angela's special."

Alvin Moore nodded impatiently. "Yes. I'm well aware of Angela's many attributes. But I didn't ask you here to talk about my daughter, young man." He settled back in his seat, one leg resting on his knee. "I asked you here to talk about your…background."

Shawn willed himself not to look away from the probing brown eyes. What did he know? Had he pumped his own daughter for information? Maybe his recruiter status in the military was just a façade, and he belonged to an intelligence division that had provided him with information on his daughter's boyfriend humble background. If that were the case, then he knew that Shawn had no right to set his sights on Angela. He jumped slightly when addressed again.

"Well, son, I'm waiting."

Slowly and with deliberation, Shawn began the anticipated accounting of his life. From his birth in Ohio, to his being raised in Oklahoma as a young child, he left nothing out concerning the numerous schools he'd been in until the age of thirteen when his family had finally settled in Philadelphia. He talked of the dives his family had lived in and finally the trailer parks that he'd called home until just three years ago when Jack, his half brother, had showed up, taking on the task of raising the younger brother he'd never even seen at the behest of his father, who after years of unemployment had finally found a successful career as a truck driver. At the end of his tale, he glanced up from his hands to see that Angela had come back into the room. His heart tightened in his chest. Now she was privy to things he'd never wanted her to know. Would she ever look at him the same way again, or would she too regard him with pity or would disdain make its stealthy way into her heart, coloring her opinion of him like it had done with Jill Hollinger, the first girl who'd made him aware that he wasn't good enough for her at the tender age of thirteen. If Angela ever looked at him like she had, he didn't know if he could take it. Jill had been a crush, and her rejection had sent him reeling, making him realize for the first time that he wasn't like Cory in spite of their having been friends since they were six years old in the first grade. He'd begun gravitating to a rougher crowd of boys from his side of the tracks and had gotten, involved in vandalism of school property before escalating into petty theft.

That had been a dark time in his life, and if not for the intervention of one of his teachers, Jonathan Taylor, Shawn didn't think that he'd have found his way back from the dark side intact. Cory and his family had been a help and in time, he'd bounced back but with internal scars and insecurities about his past and background that he'd never let anyone see or touch, not even Cory.

And now Angela knew his deepest darkest secrets. Would she still love him? Or consider him a pathetic reject as Jill had.

"Shawn?" Angela laid a hand on his shoulder.

Shawn started and looked up at her blankly. "Huh?"

"Daddy was just asking about your mother," she said quietly. After giving his shoulder an imperceptible squeeze signifying her support, she removed her hand and went to sit down on the sofa, almost perfectly situated in a middle between the two men seated in the side chairs as a referee would be.

"Yes, you mentioned your father and his trouble with finding stable employment," Alvin Moore explained, folding his arms across his board chest. "That must have been hard on your mother."

"Um, my mother." Shawn scratched the back of his ear nervously. Angela was also watching him although with a benevolence that her father's gaze lacked yet with just as much interest. He made himself concentrate and choose his words. "Yeah, she worked hard to keep up together as a family," he began, "that is, until she couldn't take it anymore and-and left us—for good that..last time." Defiant blue eyes glared Sergeant Moore's obviously shocked face as if daring the older man to judge or pity him.

Shawn heard Angela's quick in drawn breath, but refused to look at her. Angela knew about his mother's dual flights, of course, in full detail. But as vulnerable as he was currently feeling, he didn't think he could stand to see the latter emotion in the lovely brown eyes of the girl he loved.

Her father quickly uncrossed his legs and arms and sat bolt upright, his hands gripping the chair's arms. "Are you saying that your mother abandoned your family?"

The tension slowly faded from Shawn's body. The belligerent light dimmed, and his eyes slid away as he nodded his head affirmatively.

"Yes, sir."

The silence that followed was thick and charged with a curious energy. He reluctantly raised his eyes, shame and lingering hurt buried deep in their depths, but not concealed enough for the man across from him not to see it and unconsciously be affected by the pathos reflected there.

"That must have been hard on you, son, and your Dad," he said gently, after a pause. "I know that when my---"

"Daddy, I'm sure Shawn would rather not talk about _his_ mother right _now_," Angela interjected hurriedly, from between clenched teeth. She jumped up preemptively to bar further pursuit of the topic. "Besides, I came in to tell you that dinner is ready, so why don't we all go in before it overcooks. I-I made lamb, and I don't' want it to be rubbery."

Alvin Moore turned his head and stared up at his daughter with narrowed eyes. A dull flush appeared under the brown skin of her sculpted cheeks. She uncomfortably smoothed the sides of her dress down, but stubbornly continued to meet his fixed gaze without backing down. A silent communication of some kind passed between them. Shawn, who was now intently studying the herringbone pattern of the wood floor, missed the byplay. Eventually, her father shook his head slightly but nevertheless rose with a heartfelt sigh.

Shawn stood up, too. Angela walked over to him and took his hand. She smiled at him. 'Come on. Let's go in."

They went into the adjoined dining room. The table was formally set with the family's best china, glassware and silver candlestick holders. It was elegant and very beautiful. Shawn gasped when he saw it, certain that Angela had gone to such trouble mainly for him.

"It's beautiful, Angela," he said softly. Unseen, his thumb caressed her palm, sending little shivers up her arm.

His pleased girlfriend preened. "Thank you." She favored him with a smile so pretty that he couldn't help feeling a little dazzled.

They gazed at each other with an understanding that was palpable and potent. Shawn's eyes traveled over her face with obvious affection. From his position at the head of the table, Sergeant Moore cleared his throat to get the teenagers' rapt attention.

"Shawn, why don't you have a seat while Angela and I bring in dinner?"

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir." Shawn self-consciously smoothed his slicked backed hair, complying while Angela moved toward the kitchen with her father.

Father and daughter came back quickly. He was carrying a large platter that matched the dinnerware with a glistening brown delectable roasted lamb at its center, already carved and garnished with baby potatoes and a colorful assortment of mixed vegetables. Angela came up behind him with a bottle of what looked like wine.

When everything was laid out on the table, Sergeant Moore seated himself at the head of the table with Angela dropping down into the seat on his left, directly across from Shawn.

Shawn gazed at her, feeling more peaceful just looking at the pretty picture she made.

"Shawn?" He looked at his host. "Your plate, please."

"Oh, yes, sir," he said hastily, handing it to the older man. Alvin Moore filled it with the appropriate amount of food, his having been a teenage boy himself holding him in good stead. He held it out to his daughter's suitor.

Shawn took it from him. The delicious aroma wafted up to his nose and his stomach responded with a ferocious growl. Shawn grimaced expecting Angela's father to take exception to his stomach's lack of manners. However, the older man surprised him by grinning.

"Well, I guess we don't have to worry about your appetite, Shawn," he joked genially.

Angela, who was taking her plate from him, looked at him in surprise but smiled.

His color high, Shawn laughed albeit a reticently. "That's normally never a problem, sir. My brother Jack or my best friend Cory will tell you that I'm usually hungry."

Alvin Moore finished serving himself. "Well," he began while setting his plate down in front of him, "that's as it should be with a growing young man of your age. I swear I ate my weight in food everyday much to my mother's dismay." He rubbed the back of his head absently as he reminisced. "But not even her love taps to the back of my head for going in and out of her refrigerator affected my appetite."

Shawn smiled politely at his gentle humor. And as his host bowed his head for grace, Shawn and Angela's eyes met briefly, his with an expression of inquiry and hers with evasion. She gave a slight shrug and quickly closed her eyes, bowing her head. Shawn did likewise while wondering what had happened to the stern inquisitor from the earlier portion of the evening.

Shawn's bewilderment, mixed with relief and a growing sense of ease, continued as the dinner wore on. He decided that he must have passed some kind of test unknown to him because of Sergeant Moore ever increasing solicitude.

"So, Shawn what were you're plans for Prom night?" he asked comfortably as his dinner guest forked a succulent morsel of lamb into his mouth, capturing his wandering attention.

Shawn finished chewing rather hastily. "Um, Cory—he's my best friend--and I were planning on hiring a limousine for the night." His expression darkened as he watched his half empty glass get refilled with the clear Sparkling Cider he'd thought was wine. "But I'm not exactly sure if he's going to go to the Prom anymore since he and his girlfriend broke up a couple of months ago."

Alvin Moore's dark eyebrows shot up. He quickly glanced at Angela then back at Shawn. "Then it'll just be you and Angela in this limo?"

"Cory's my friend Topanga's boyfriend, Daddy," she interjected before Shawn could reply. "I'm sure they'll work everything out before Prom Night. It's just a little spat."

Shawn's eyes flickered but he didn't contradict Angela. "Yeah, um, it's just a temporary thing. I didn't mean to make it sound more serious than it is."

His features relaxing, Alvin Moore nodded. "Good." He sipped his cider. "Well, you have my permission to escort Angela on the big night." Alvin Moore announced casually. A reaction wasn't long in coming.

Angela's utensils clattered as they hit her plate and bounced off of it. She jumped up to go to her father's side and throw her arms around the wide expanse of his shoulders, her head coming to rest against his. "Daddy! Thank you!" she squealed with happiness, pressing her head firmly to his. "Thank you so much!"

Her father cupped her face with one hand and squeezed one her small hands. "No problem, baby." The military man's eyes gleamed with a soft light of love reserved only for his only child.

Although feeling as jubilant as Angela, Shawn refrained from showing any outward display of emotion beyond a small satisfied smile. He got to his feet and stretched out a hand.

"Thank you, sir." He too laid his fork down, brought the fine linen napkin to his from where it lay on his lap and got up, right hand extended. "I promise I'll keep Angela safe." Serious blue eyes met Alvin Moore's dark brown orbs squarely. "You won't regret your decision."

Sergeant Moore's eyes dropped to the hand being held out to him. Angela straightened, releasing him, and he leaned forward to grasp the young man's hand in his. The massive brown hand swallowed up the much smaller pale one,concealing it from sight in a firm handshake.

"I'm counting on it, son." After a moment, he let go and turned his head to speak to Angela who was once again seated. "Would you mind if I left the cleaning up to you and Shawn, baby?" He pushed back his chair, knowing that the question was a mere formality. "I have some work I need to get done before my next recruiting drive."

Angela shook her head in a kind of daze. Everything had gone so well after a particularly—she'd been eavesdropping from the kitchen—ignominious beginning. And now, here was her father leaving them alone together and without her even having to ask for that privilege!

Gathering her wits, she replied, feeling a little giddy, "N-Not at all, Daddy. Shawn and I'll take care of everything."

"Good enough." He glanced back and forth between the youngsters. "You two carry on with your dinner." He smiled at his daughter. "It was a great meal, honey. You out did yourself tonight." Alvin Moore reached out and gently chucked her on the chin.

"Thank you, Daddy."

She and Shawn watched as he left, making his way with compact strides across the adjacent living room before he disappeared from sight as he neared the stairs.

Angela turned to Shawn. "I can't believe it was that easy."

A slow smile curved the tips of Shawn's bowed mouth. "Don't tell me that you doubted my ability to charm your Dad, Angela?" he asked in mock surprise. Shawn's famous cockiness had returned with a vengeance hard on the heels of his success with Angela's father, his uncertainty and self-consciousness an unpleasant but quickly dissipating memory. "I'm Shawn Hunter, after all. I have a talent for persuasion, you know."

Angela directed an exasperated glance at him. "You'll forgive my pessimism since my Dad isn't one of the legions of teenage girls crushing on you!" she shot back.

Shawn gave a hoot of laughter at the pin point accuracy of her arrow. The legs of his chair softly scraped against the wood floor as he got up and came around the table to her side. Angela rose to in anticipation of his next move which was to wrap his arms around her waist and pull her tight up against him. They stood cheek to cheek with Angela's arms braced against his chest.

"Jealous?" he queried softly. He turned his head, and his soft lips met the skin of one velvety cheek.

"Of _course_ not!" she repied smartly. It wasn't a complete lie.

Shawn lips traveled down to the nape of her neck. Small hands crept up his shirt front to snake around his neck. "I'm just glad that some of your famous prowess translated with my father." She closed her eyes, tilting her head to give him better access. "He can be a-a tough nut to crack, especially when it comes to me."

Shawn raised his head and looked down into her face. Her eyes slowly opened. "What?"

When he didn't answer but continued to look at her with an all too familiar look in his suddenly heavy lidded blue eyes, her heart began to beat faster.

"If-If you're finished, we should get the table cleared before he comes down again," she stammered. Even to her own ears, she sounded a little breathless and slightly unnerved.

"Yeah, we should," Shawn murmured softly just before his head dipped, and his lips made contact with hers.

Slow, deep kisses made her head swim. Silence ensued except for the soft sounds of tongues and lips and inadvertent moans. Angela dragged her mouth away, fighting to catch her breath. Shawn brushed butterfly soft kisses down her cheek and neck. Reluctantly, and with her heart beating hard within her chest, she pulled out of his arms, putting some much needed space between them before turning to the table to lay her utensils onto her plate.

"I'm going to clear the table," she announced in mortifyingly squeaky tones, picking up the plate and glass. Avoiding Shawn's face, she scurried from the room. Shawn remained where he was, a cocky smirk adorning his handsome face and a newfound bounce to his step. He walked around the table to his own place setting, stopping only to retrieve Sergeant Moore's half-empty plate which he stacked on top of his own. Then he grabbed to the two wineglasses and headed to the kitchen door.

He backed into it, and when he turned around, Angela came over to him, taking the plates from his hands. Eyes downcast, she went over to the sink and scraped the remnants of their dinner into the garbage disposal.

Shawn came up behind her, reached around her and sat the wineglasses on the counter. "I'll get the rest of the things," he said, near her ear. One of the downy spirals of her hair stirred from the soft burst of breath.

"O-Okay," she stammered jerkily, resisting the impulse to move away from the warmth coming of his body as he stood next to her. What was wrong with her? she wondered anxiously. This was Shawn—the guy she loved, but something had been different about him lately. About their relationship. And she knew what it was even though she'd been hoping to put it off for a while longer.

She jumped a little when he returned with the platter and the rest of the things from the table. They worked industriously and well together. In a short time, the dinning room and kitchen were spotless and returned to order.

Shawn took Angela's hand and led her out of the room over to the sofa. As soon as they sat down, Shawn leaned in, initiating another soul stirring kiss. It went on and on until Angela dimly thought she heard footsteps on the stairs. Quickly inserting the hands that had been buried in Shawn's hair between their bodies, she pushed against his chest and turned her head away.

Undeterred, Shawn continued to rain kisses down her cheek and neck.

"Shawn!" Angela whispered anxiously. "I thought I heard my father on the stairs. Now _behave_!"

Sighing, Shawn raised his head from where it was buried in her neck. "I didn't hear anything, Angela," he said in his normal speaking voice. He sat back, and titled his head, listening intently before looking at her again. "I think you're becoming paranoid." He gave her a look that nearly melted her into a puddle. "Come here, baby."

She knew that she shouldn't. They had just by some miracle won permission to be together for their Prom, one of the most important events of their senior year outside of graduation. They couldn't risk offending her father now, but when he looked at her like that with his arms spread across the back of the sofa, legs wide, jacket open and his shirt undone at the neck, looking all kinds of hot, Angela found that she couldn't resist throwing caution to the wind and herself up against him.

Her arms went around his neck and he lowered his lips to hers, pressing apart the soft baby doll shaped lips that he loved. Angela moaned as his tongue slid inside, tasting and teasing her. Angela timidly rolled her tongue around his. Shawn groaned and pushed her down onto the sofa, a familiar tightening in his groin. Somehow, during the haze of desire, he'd gotten her dress off her shoulders and down her arms. Angela could feel his hand lifting one of her breasts from its pretty confinement. She gasped as he palmed her small orb and again when his thumb passed over her nipple, causing it to grow erect and firm. He dropped his head from her lips and took it into his mouth, sucking it delicately and then harder. Angela creamed and moaned as Shawn positioned himself between her legs. His hands hiked up her dress and caressed her hips and velvety thighs. A guttural sound erupted in his throat as he ground his hardness against her.

Then all of a sudden, he felt a push, and he was on the floor, his head narrowly missing the coffee table.

He stared up at Angela who was frantically adjusting her bra and the skirt of her dress.

"What are you doing?" he asked, pushing his hair out of his eyes.

"_Saving your life_!" Angela hissed. "My _father_ is upstairs. Are you _crazy_?"

He watched his girlfriend hurriedly insert her arms through the dress's armholes and struggled to zip it up. He agilely sprang up, intending to help her.

"Okay. You're right," Shawn admitted wryly. He ran a hand over his face. "I got a little carried away, Angela. I didn't intend to go that far."

"Tonight, you mean you didn't," she corrected him. She stood, turned her back to him and he slid the zipper up the back of her dress. When he was done, she spun around, her arms folded across her chest. "I'm not sure that I'm ready for-for what you want from me, Shawn." Her serious brown eyes met his surprised blue.

"But the other week at that party—"

"I know I seemed like I wanted to," she admitted looking contrite, "and a part of me does, Shawn, but I don't think I'm ready yet. And I don't know when I will be." Her eyes fell from his, and she took a deep breath. "I-I'll understand if-if you want to bring someone else to the Prom."

Shawn scowled down at her. He lifted her chin with the crook of his finger. "You think sex is all I want from you, and that if I don't get it, I'm gone?"

Angela bit her lip and would have looked away but the intensity of his stare wouldn't allow it. "I-I don't know." She sighed. "I mean, it's probably not _all_, but—"

He took her face in his hands, his eyes boring into her soul. "I love you, Angela. And I thought you loved me, too."

Tears sprang into her eyes. "_I_ do, Shawn! I do! I love you so much!"

"Then how could you think that I'd break up with you just because you're not ready to have sex with me?" he asked, distressed. "I thought you knew me better than that. Angela, I've never shared so much of myself with any other girl."

The hurt in his voice tormented Angela. She burrowed her head into his chest, her arms slipping around his waist. "I'm sorry. I just wanted you to know that I'd-I'd understand."

He swallowed his pain, realizing that she hadn't intended to hurt him, but rather had been trying to protect herself from possible rejection. He didn't like the thought of her feeling as though she had to protect herself from him, and he would prove to her that she didn't have to.

"Okay, that's fine. But you understand this, Angela Shaynaynay Moore, no girl's ever made me feel the way you do," Shawn said fiercely from above her head. "I'm in love with you. Until you come to me, and tell me that you want me as much as I want you, I can wait. I can wait as long as I have to."

* * *

**A/N: **Next up. Shawn and Angela run a foul of Sgt. Moore when Cory makes a couple of questionable decisions that affect his friends.


	4. Chapter 4

Thanks for responding with reviews. I appreciate each one of your comments and enjoy reading what you guys have to say regarding the story. I'm really glad that y'all liked the last chapter. Yes, things were heating up for Shawn and Angela in the last chapter, and now they are coming to a definite boil. Here's the next chapter as promised. :-)

_Chapter Four_

Shawn knocked back the last of his cola, a darkling look in his blue eyes. "I can't wait any longer!" he exclaimed. "It's killing me!"

"What is?" Cory asked, inattentively. Topanga was laughing up into the face of his hated rival Dillon Abercrombie like she was having the best time in the world. He dragged his eyes away to gaze at Shawn.

"Angela! Well, not Angela literally. But not…you know," he said, lowering his voice, "_being_ with her. I don't know how much more I can take, man. I need some lovin' from my woman!" he added with a fierce look.

"Yeah! Me, too. I mean, from my woman. Not yours." Cory commented, his voice a bit slurred, but Shawn didn't notice. He was too distracted by Angela to notice nuances. However, the statement drew his attention.

Shawn shot Cory an exasperated look and rolled his eyes. "Has Topanga even _talked_ to you lately?"

"Well, no, but a guy can hope, can't he?" Cory asked.

Shawn grunted and rubbed the back of his neck. He hated being so short with Cory, but he was on edge these days like he'd never been before. He was sexually frustrated, and it was being to take its toll on him. In the past, if a girl didn't put out or give him what he wanted, then he was gone. No skin off his nose. But with Angela, all that had changed. He didn't have the option of tossing the the relationship aside. He was in way too deep and invested as he'd never hoped or thought he could be. Yet it seemed as though he'd inadvertently traded love for sex. And in the beginning it had eneough to sustain him, but the deeper in love he fell with Angela, the more he longed for physical contact. The more he wanted to be a part of her and have her be a part of him. He stirred against the wall, leaning his back and head against it as he closed his eyes. He was in love with his sexy, intelligent and cultured purse girl, and no one else would do for him. A disgruntled sigh escaped him. He raised his eyelids slightly, morosely watching her having a good time.

Cory followed the line of his vision to see Angela dancing with some guy he didn't recognize. His eyes narrowed as he scrutinized her. He could see what Shawn was getting at. As much as he loved and admired Topanga, he couldn't deny that Angela was hot, too, but no more so than usual. Nevertheless, he squinted to took a closer look at her. She was wearing a sexy halter top that clung to her small breasts. A short black mini showed off the slender set of legs that were encased in sheer back hose. Spike-heeled black sandals made those same legs appear endless. As she moved to the music, he noticed that the gentle swell of her behind was accentuated in that figure hugging skirt. All in all, she did look very pretty and yeah, hot by any normal, red blooded guy's standards.

"I see what you mean," he conceded.

"Do you?" Shawn queried moving over to the bar. They were at yet another in a string of senior class parties. This one given by the co-captains of the football team: Ted and Dillon. Shawn had been all for passing up their party for a night alone with Angela at her house. Her father was once again out of town, but Angela had made a big deal about being worried about Topanga being with Dillon who was rushing her hard. Her argument had won his grudging consent especially when she pointed out that Cory would be there, too, predictably eating his heart out. The effectiveness of diverting the focus of his attention to his friend from being alone with Angela had endured until the night of the actual party. Now he was regretting his decision.

He eyed his girlfriend bitterly. "It seems like she's getting prettier and finer every damn day, Cory. When I promised to wait for her to give us the green light, I didn't know it was going to be this hard. I want her _so_ bad," he whined feverishly.

Angela moved with any easy and conscious sense of rhythm even as Shawn devoured her with his eyes. Dancing with a casual acquaintance of her boyfriend who knew better than to make a move on her, thus Shawn was able to view the innocent yet sex.y movements of her body without jealousy if not without arousal. He caught Angela's eye, and she blew him a kiss. His body jerked in reaction, causing a pained expression to settle upon his features.

"This is getting to be ridiculous," he groused sourly. Now his body not only responded to her voice but her gestures, too, just as if he was wired like some voice response mechanism, or some crazy crap like that.

Cory gazed at Shawn with concern, his mind finally off Topanga. "Look, Shawnie, you've got to relax." He sipped his punch for fortification, having added a general slplash of booze from his small flask to the treacly sweet liquid while Shawn wasn't looking. "Yeah, the girl's has got you by the balls, but if you don't dial it down a notch, at this rate, you're going to be a nervous wreck before Prom and graduation."

"Who're you telling?" his libidinous friend asked with a hint of sarcasm. He didn't know if he was going to be able to make it through the night. He'd never been in this predicament before, and it sucked. He continued to devour Angela with predatory eyes.

That night Angela wore her hair straight and although Shawn preferred it curly and slightly wild, there was no denying that the upswept do accentuate her slender neck and shoulders. Sleek ribbons of curls flowed down the back of her head from a topknot. And a peek-a-boo fringe of hair across her brow gave her lightly made up eyes a smoky come hither look. The touch of bronze gloss on her lips made him long to lick it from her lips, and enjoy the adventure of discovering which fruit it mimicked as he tasted her. He couldn't help the wave of heat that dampened his brow at his thoughts. He was thankful that the baggy pants and long shirts he favored covered up the lower portion of his body, camouflaging the erectness of his manhood which seemed to be doing a pretty good imitation of a honing device, accurately divining Angela's whereabouts at any given time.

And that's the problem, he thought with an inaudible groan. I don't even have to smell her perfume or hear her laugh to know exactly where she is. It was unnerving and at the same time very exciting. He curiously wondered if she ever experienced a similar phenomenon.

* * *

Even from across the room, Angela had sensed his eyes on her. Felt the heat of blue fire as it traveled over every inch of her body, the flames licking at her and disturbing her peace of mind. They were so in tune that she didn't even have to see one of Shawn's smoldering looks for it to affect her. He'd been watching her like a predatory animal who was intent on stalking its prey, and the thought alternately excited and scared her. Then his eyes met hers, and sure enough, those light blue eyes were traveling up and down heer body, their expression scorching and frankly sexual. She quickly played off their effect on her by blithely throwing him a kiss and quickly turning her head to face her generic dance partner. Shawn had never been big on dancing and so didn't mind if she indulged one of her favorite pastimes with other guys as long as the dancing didn't involve touching. She wondered how long it would be before he decided to stop babysitting Cory and came to collect his reward for agreeing to attend and escort her to the party of a guy he regarded as a hated rival and foe. From the looks he was gving her, it wouldn't be long. She shivered now at the memory and two pointed ends pushed at the front of her purple, satin halter top. Mercifully, the dance finally ended. Angela smiled her thanks and escaped before the guy could attempt to pull her back for another dance. She approached Topanga, who had also just finished dancing.

Topanga looked at her and raised her eyebrows.

"You cold?"

Angela crossed her arms over her chest. "No. It's Shawn," she said a little shakily. "He's looking at me."

Topanga squinted and glanced around her to where Shawn and Cory were were standing. "What else is new? He's always looking at you."

"It's just that when he looks at me like that my body reacts automatically, never mind what my head might be saying."

Topanga stole a glance at Cory. "I know exactly what you mean. It's crazy how a guy can affect you like that." She sighed. "And the funny thing is they don't even know their doing it."

Angela laughed humorlessly. "Oh, he knows," she said dryly. "He's very aware of his power over the opposite sex." And me, she thought, biting her lip at the admission.

Angela jumped as masculine hands made contact with the bare skin of her shoulders.

"Hey Shawn," Topanga said belatedly.

"Hey Topanga," he murmured as he laid a soft lingering kiss on Angela's temple.

"Bye Shawn." She waved at him wiggling her fingers playfully.

Angela glared at her for not warning her and then abandoning her after everything she'd just said. However, the moment she felt his lips on her neck, all thoughts of Topanga and her treachery faded away. Her eyes closed and her head fell back, supported on Shawn's chest. He smelled so good. His hair tickled her tickled her shoulders, sensitizing the skin even more. His hands trailed down her arms, leaving a path of fire in their wake. A slight moan slipped from her as she felt the hard rise in his pants against her rear. When he cupped her small breasts through the silky satin material of her halter, Angela forced herself pull away from him even as her body screamed for her to let him do what ever he wanted, touch whatever he wanted to touch.

"Shawn, baby, I-I don't t-think…" she stammered.

"Come with me," he said urgently, grabbing her hand. Angela reacted to the low intensity of his voice, docilely following him where he led over to a rather dark and secluded corner of the room where the room's low light failed to penetrate and away from the gyrating and sweating bodies of their friends and classmates.

Stopping rather suddenly, he backed her up against the wall, his hands pulling her hips to his groin. Angela wondered if she'd imagined the sensuous flash of heavy lidded blue eyes before his lips came down on hers. Angela gasped at the sensation of rock hard bulge being ground into her abdomen, and Shawn slipped his tongue between her lips. Her hands instinctively crept up his chest, his neck and into his hair, pulling him closer as she responded, her tongue answering his and exploring his mouth. Shawn groaned.

His large hands abandoned her hips to caress the rounded cheeks of her bottom through the material of her short dark skirt. Angela moaned against his mouth, the feel of his tongue and hands sending shivers of desire down into her secret place. Dewy moisture materialized at the apex between her legs. The tips of her breasts extended, and Shawn, as though sensing their excitement, trailed a hand up along her body. It came to rest on the side of her breast, his thumb passed over the hardened crest. And then his hand, warm and slow moving, slipped underneath the gaping material of her halter to fondle the quivering orb. A mindless mass of longing and passion, she moved her legs further apart when Shawn placed his other hand under her skirt, lifting one of her legs up to wrap around his waist. Mindless with anticipation, her body craved his touch. More wetness pooled at her center.

As he began fingering her through the barrier of her lacy panties, Angela whimpered, instinctively moving her hips against his hand as pleasurable sensations like she'd never felt before began building inside of her.

Then all of the sudden, his hand was gone, and he was pulling her skirt down and quickly adjusting her top before stepping in front of her. Bereft of his lips and hands, Angela began to protest his cruel abandonment. The words died on her lips once she opened glazed eyes and saw Ted bearing down on them.

"Hey Hunter, you deaf? I _said_ you better get your ass—" Ted stopped short and his mouth tightened with displeasure when he spied Angela behind Shawn. He'd participated in enough heavy make out sessions to know without a doubt what they'd been doing, especially if the drowsy eyed, dazed look on Angela's face and Hunter's swollen, blood red lips were anything to go by. He stopped just in front Shawn who he resented for having gotten further with Angela than he had. She'd never allowed him more than a couple of brief, chaste kisses, and here she was all but having sex with this obnoxious white guy against his living room wall. His hands unconsciously curled into fists at his side.

Although he was looking in Ted's eyes, Shawn saw that he was preparing for a fight but his only feeling was one of impatience. Choir boy and rich kid, Brazelton really didn't want any of Shawn Hunter, product of some of the roughest trailer parks in the north and southeast, who'd had to fight and scrap to keep anything and everything he'd ever wanted or valued. He glanced over his shoulder at Angela, his hard gaze softening as he briefly saw her anxious face before swinging his head back to the unwelcome intruder. His jaw hardened. He'd better have a good reason for interrupting them. He crossed his arms in an entirely deceptive move but widened his stance, planting his feet.

"What do you want, Brazelton?"

Ted swallowed the hasty combative words that had trembled so precariously on his lips mere moments ago. Hunter was regarding him with no fear whatsoever. The blue eyes watching him so carefully were steely and cold, putting him in mind of the rumors regarding the white boy's sordid roots and reckless reputation.

"You better get ya' boy, Hunter," he bit out sharply. "Matthews is drunk as a skunk. He's disrupting the whole party. I don't want to have to throw him outta here, but I will if I have to."

Although his expression never changed, inwardly Shawn groaned. Dammit, Cory was drinking again?

I'm going to kill him, he thought with annoyance. I'm finally getting somewhere with Angela, and he has to do this! Concern for his best friend warred with unappeased lus.t for Angela. He briefly closed his eyes, his head dropping a little in resignation, aware of what he had to do.

Carefully keeping all evidence of his thoughts to himself, Shawn reached behind him, grabbed Angela's hand, and started across the room. A raucous cry went up. He almost stumbled as Cory came into view around a large column that separated the living room from what had to be the dining room only the table, which Cory was standing on, was pushed up against the a wall on the far side of the room.

Shawn heard Angela gasp from beside him. Irritated, horny, and just plain, well, vexed by anything that didn't have to do with getting some lovin' from Angela, Shawn let go of her hand and went to his friend's rescue, getting up on a chair to pull his half naked body down. Glassy eyed and grinning like a fool, Cory was obviously feeling no pain. He threw one bare and surprisingly well-developed arm around Shawn's shoulders, his sweaty face just inches from his friend.

"Hey Shawnie!"

Shawn tilted his head away. The fumes coming off his breath were awful. Unaware of Shawn's disapprobation, Cory raised his head and glanced around. "Ev'body, herre's _Shawnie_." He turned back to Shawn, peering at him through bleary eyes. "Hey buddy."

Shawn sighed. He had to get him out of there and home safely. He turned to Angela who'd had the forethought to collect Cory's discarded shirt, jacket, and shoes.

Shawn looked at her with gratitude and regret. "I've got to get Cory out of here and sober before I take him home. I'll ask Topanga to give you a ride."

Angela shook her head. "I want to stay with you."

"Angela." Her name emerged as a sigh. "Come on, baby," he groaned. "I don't like this any better than you do." He struggled to hold up Cory's body which was nearly dead weight in his arms. "But I can't let Mr. or Mrs. Matthews see him like this. He was grounded for a month the last time. God only knows what his Dad will do to him this time if he finds out." His blue eyes pleaded with her. "It'll be better if you go with Topanga."

"Topanga's gone, Shawn. I don't see her anywhere around." She looked at a stupidly grinning Cory with fond exasperation. "I'm not sure, but I think they might have exchanged words. That's probably what got Cory…up on the table."

Shawn stared her, chagrined. This night wasn't going his way at all.

Angela bit her lip, her expression uncertain. "I um could ask—Ted to—"

"_Fuck_ no!" Shawn said through gritted teeth. He glared at her for even suggesting such a loathsome idea.

"Then it's settled," she said firmly. "I'm coming with you. I can help you get Cory sober."

Shawn shook his head. He didn't know how long it would take him to get Cory sober. For all his sympathy concerning Shawn's circumstances, he knew he still had to prove himself to Sergeant Moore. And bringing Angela home well after her curfew wasn't going to sit well with her old man or win Shawn any brownie points.

"No," he repeated, "I'm taking you straight home, and then _I'm_ going to get Cory sobered up at the apartment."

Angela opened her mouth to argue with him.

"I'm not going to argue about this, Angela," Shawn declared firmly, cutting off her protest. "I don't know how long it's gonna take before Cory's in any shape to go home tonight. I'd try to keep him with me until morning, but I can't trust Cory to ask his Dad. Anything else might seem suspicious to Mr. Matthews after what happened the last time." He hoisted Cory's heavy body higher on his hip. "Look, dig in my back pocket. I have enough money in my wallet for you to take a cab home."

Angela's eyes flashed rebelliously. She hugged Cory's clothes to her chest. "No. I'm coming with you." He opened his mouth to protest, and she hastened to speak. "It's either that, or I go home with Ted as my escort," she suggested craftily.

"I like A-Ang-Angurela. Let 'er come wit' u-ush," drunken Cory chimed in.

Angela calmly met Shawn's eyes, a silent battle of wills taking place between them. Eventually, Shawn puffed out his cheeks in frustration. He was being manipulated, and there was nothing he could do about it. He'd walk on blazing hot coals before he'd willingly allow Angela to go near that arrogant bastard, especially not tonight as delectably hot as she was looking. A muscle ticked in his clenched jaw. Later, they'd have to have a talk about this power play shit she was pulling on him.

"Fine," he said tartly.

He gazed at her unhappily. Angela just didn't seem to understand the pressure he was under trying to balance himself on a tightrope woven out of what she wanted from him, what he needed from her, and what her father expected of him. He'd been outmaneuvered this time, but that didn't mean that he had to pretend he was happy about it.

Not unmindful of his displeasure, Angela nodded solemnly, wisely resisting urge to gloat. Yet even though she didn't allow any emotion to show, inwardly, she was elated at her victory. She stifled the urge to do a little dance as she walked behind Cory and her very irritated boyfriend.

The little group trouped out of the party. A pair of censorious brown eyes watched them as they exited his parent's front door. The scowl on Ted's face disappeared as the door opened again and a cheerleader from another school walked over the threshold and into the room. Smoothing his short waves and the downy fur on above his upper lip, Ted strolled over to her. Now that Angela wasn't around, he could be himself. As the latecomer winked and smiled at him, he didn't give either Angela Moore or Shawn Hunter another thought for the remainder of the night.

* * *

As Shawn drove down the highway, carefully maintaining the speed limit, he glanced at Angela. Gentle moonlight illuminated the car's interior. He got a fairly clear picture of her delicate profile. She was gazing out of the window of Cory's nineteen eighty-nine Subaru. Beams of light periodically flashed over her face, putting him in mind of the staccato rhythm of a train's wheels passing over a track. Although he couldn't see her full expression, she seemed as peaceful and serene as always. A slight smile turned his mouth into a wide bow. She was such a good sport and never complained about his relationship with a guy who he considered as much of a brother as Jack. It had never been a bone of contention. She knew she came first, and like Topanga, respected the close bond that existed between the two friends.

Shawn transferred his gaze to the rear view mirror. Cory lay on the back seat, dead to the world, his head lolling about slightly from his stupor. Intermittent light snores added themselves to the low music coming from the radio, interrupting the car's quiet.

"Hey," Shawn called to her quietly. Angela turned her head to him, the side of her head leaning against the window pane.

"Hey, yourself."

"You were a thousand miles away."

She sighed contentedly. "Just happy to be with you." She studied his profile as he watched the road ahead, admiring the chestnut brown hair falling over his temple, the alabaster skin that never tanned, the tip tilted nose that somehow managed to be cute yet masculine, and of course, those infamous pink lips that were so firm and soft at the same time.

Feeling her eyes on his face, Shawn kept his eyes on the road, but said softly. "You're staring at me. Why?"

Angela grinned at the question. "I'd think you'd be used to people staring at you by now, Shawn."

He shrugged, but didn't bother denying the obvious. He knew that most people, mainly women, thought him handsome.

"You're not people."

His answer pleased her.

"Alright," she said, straightening. "I was just thinking how _irresistibly_ sexy you are. How _incredibly_ hot," she purred inticingly.

His body twitched. "Angela, don't do this to me now." He glanced over at her. "Not when I can't do anything about it."

Angela's smile widened into a grin. She was beginning to enjoy herself. Usually she had to be very circumspect when she talked to Shawn, careful not to do or say anything to incite his passion if she wasn't willing to go the distance, but now, there was no such danger. Shawn, who had his hands at ten and two as Cory's hard to steer automobile demanded, was hampered by having to keep his attention on the road and his hands on the wheel. In other words, he was at her mercy.

She turned her body to him, her hand coming to lightly rest on the growing mound between his legs. It stirred underneath her hand like a sleeping animal just waking from slumber.

"_Angela_!" he grunted in warning. He cut his eyes at her sternly.

"What?" she asked innocently. Growing even bolder, she began to inch his zipper down. Shawn wet his full bottom lip, but said nothing. Only his increased breathing gave any indication as to his state of mind. She slipped her small hand inside the opening and fondled the large bulge through the soft cotton of his boxers.

"Does that feel good?" she asked softly.

Crap! What the hell kind of question is that? he thought and shuddered. Angela…_his_ Angela…was really going to do this do him. He licked his lips. "Y-Yeah. I-It…don't stop," he panted. His head fell back against the headrest weakly. He kept his eyes open and on the road by sheer will power.

Aroused herself, Angela obediently obeyed for the next few minutes stroking and caressing Shawn until successive moans escaped him. His hands gripped the steering so tightly that his knuckles were bloodless. Then feeling reckless, a little naughty, and just plain turned on, she brought her other hand over to pull apart the snap fastening that held the long, rigid coil of flesh from her eager eyes. Giddy with the anticipation of finally seeing his aroused manhood, she reached inside to pull it out. It was dark inside the car, but she could just make out the pale salmon colored staff. She experimentally ran her hand up and down its length.

Shawn's eyes threatened to roll back in his head. He'd never felt anything as good as Angela's hand fondling him. He felt like he was going to explode at any moment. Inexpert as her hands were, it didn't lessen his pleasure one bit. She was the one he wanted and dreamed about having nightly. _Her_ touch on his body was the one he craved.

However, in an effort to be sensible, he half-heartedly tried to push her hand away.

"Baby, you have _got_ to stop." He'd meant it as a command, yet it sounded more like a plea.

"But you told me _not_ to," she pouted, batting his hand away.

Shawn moaned. "I—_damn that feels good_—I c-can't take anymore, baby." Soon he was going to have to pull over to the side of the road or risk an accident. Angela increased the pace of her activity, and Shawn actually growled. His pleasure was interrupted as a sudden shriek ripped through the air, startling both front seat occupants.

"_Shit_!" Shawn yelped. "What the _hell_ was that?"

"_It-It's Cory_!" Angela gasped, letting go of Shawn. She was staring out the passenger side mirror. "Shawn…he-he's _mooning_ that car." Her finger pointed to the car in the lane next to them, trailing them by a single car length. It stealthily switched lanes, moving behind the little blue Subaru.

Shawn glanced behind him quickly. Sure enough, there was Cory, hanging out of the back window. Cory's bare naked ass, that is, was hanging out the window. Shawn's eyes widened and his jaw fell.

"_Whoa, Momma!_ That-the air's _cold!_" Cory gripped before letting out another bloodcurdling howl.

When he saw the lights on top of the car that his friend had mooned begin to flash red and blue and heard the loud blare of its siren, he groaned in sheer anguish.

Keeping one hand on the wheel, he hurriedly reached one arm behind him to grab at one of Cory's arms, yanking him back inside the car.

"_You idiot_!" he yelled at Cory who was smiling at him, insensible to what he'd done. "Now, you've done it."

With his head swimming and his heart sinking fast, he pulled over to the shoulder. A quick glance at Angela told him that she was scared. He had no time to comfort her however.

As he adjusted his own clothes, stuffing his private back into his own pants, Shawn ordered Cory to pull up his boxers and pants, a task he feared his handicapped friend would never complete. However, Cory surprised him by getting them up even though zipping the pants seemed to be beyond his capabilities at the moment. Hearing the patrol car's door slam shut, as the officer got out, he was thankful for small favors. A shadowy figure approached the driver's side.

Shawn rolled down the window and looked out. "Yes, officer?" he asked quickly and tried to quell his nervousness.

The officer, a tall well-built black man, leaned down and glanced inside the car. The faces of two teenaged Caucasian males caused him to sigh. The third passenger seemed to be asleep. He couldn't get a good look at the girl's face as it was turned away from him, but he could see that she wasn't white. Dark hair and brown skin, he noted for the record, and promptly dismissed her.

The officer drummed his fingers on the top of the hood impatiently. More partying seniors, he thought wearily, getting their kicks off out stupid pranks and high jinks to give their high school years a proper send off. And the dizzying round of proms hadn't even started yet.

He examined the driver with experienced eyes. His eyes were clear. and he was regarding the officer calmly. The designated driver was obviously sober unlike his wasted friend. He was about to request the driver's license, registration and insurance, and if all was in order, let the boys off with a stern warning when the lights off a passing car illuminated the interior of the Subaru, and he caught a glimpse of the girl's face as she furtively tried to look at him. Aware that she'd been seen, she quickly turned away again. Intrigued, the officer leaned down a bit more, grabbed a small flashlight from his belt, pressed the switch and light shined into the car. There was something familiar about this other passenger even though the quick flash of features had been too brief for him to gather more than an impression that he knew her. He let the light travel down her slender form and back up to her averted face.

"Young lady, turn around."

Shawn frowned. "What's the matter, officer? That's just my girlfriend."

"I wasn't talking to you, son." The officer repeated his request.

Angela sighed and turned her head.

"H-Hi, Officer Martin," she said, a quaver in her voice.

"Angela? Angela Moore?"

She tried to smile, but it wavered badly and then died altogether.

Shawn all but ceased to breathe. This night couldn't get any worse, could it?

The definitive answer to his question came all too swiftly.

The officer straightened and stepped back. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to take you guys in," was his startling announcement. "Step out of the car, please."

* * *

Alvin Moore had just gotten home when the phone rang. He loosened his tie and jogged over to the phone, a light swear on his lips. He was tired and as usual the call would be for his very popular daughter and not for him. Since he knew that she was out on a date that night with Shawn, he was even more irritated then usual by what he assumed was the first wave of a deluge of calls. It was becoming a nightly pattern.

"Hello?" he barked intimidatingly in anticipation of hearing a young teenage girl asking to speak to Angela.

"Al? This is Ken Martin."

The hand that had been rubbing a painful kink out of the back of his neck stilled briefly. His visage changed. A slow smile parted Alvin Moore's lips. "Hey, Kenny. It's been a while, man. You retired yet?"

"No, still got a a ways to go before I make my twenty-two years. If I'd have stayed in the regulars, I'd probably be out by now," the nineteen year reservist replied. "Um listen, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I picked up some kids tonight. One had been drinking and mooned my squad car. Um, Angela was in the front seat with the driver who said that she was his girlfriend. I tested him, and he wasn't drinking. Neither was Angela."

Shocked, Alvin listened, looking grim. "You must be talking about Shawn," he said finally. "He took Angela out tonight. My daughter's at the police station right now? You're holding her?"

"Yeah, she's here, but she's not charged with anything, Al. I just thought that maybe she shouldn't be out joy riding with these guys even though they seem harmless enough. But try not to worry. She's in a private room well away from the criminal element."

Alvin released the breath he hadn't been aware of holding at the news that his daughter wasn't in trouble with the law and hadn't been subject to less than savory environment of a police station.

"I've called the Matthews," the officer went on. "Unfortunately, Shawn Hunter's brother wasn't in," the officer explained. He paused but then added, "Listen, Al, I wasn't sure about bringing her down here, but—"

"You did the right thing," Angela's father said quietly. "I—I'll be right down. Thanks, Ken."

He laid the receiver down in its cradle gently, even though he wanted to slam it down and watch it disintegrate into pieces. Kind of like what he wanted to do with Shawn Hunter's head. Grabbing his keys off the console table behind the sofa where he'd thrown them, he strode over to the front door, jerking it open with suppressed violence, and slammed out of the house.

He'd been a fool to trust Hunter with his darling Angela. She was the joy of his life. The only good thing that had come from his mistake of a marriage. He thought about the sob story that boy had given him about his mother. It had really gotten to him and affected his normally good judgment. He resolved not to make that mistake again.

* * *

Angela's father arrived at the police precinct in record time. Employing superhuman control of his impatience, he resisted breaking the traffic laws, and drove at a sedate pace. One member of the Moore family in residing in a police station was enough, he thought irritably, his mouth twisted with bitterness. This was all that boy's fault. Some times, no matter how they tried, people just couldn't overcome the influences of their upbringing. He'd hoped that this wasn't the case with Shawn, but now he knew better.

As soon as he walked into the station, he saw his friend, Officer Martin leaning against the desk sergeant's counter, quietly talking to the officer sitting behind the high ledge. Alvin quickly approached him.

"Ken, where's Angela?"

The officer laid a comforting arm on one of his shoulders before turning away. "Come on. I'll take you to her."

They went around the sergeant's desk into the back of the precinct, through a room with rows of desk at which had a mix of plan clothed and uniform clad policemen and women sat, either pounding out reports on computers, talking to victims and perpetrators a like as they sat across from them. Once out of this large area, they went down at hallway with doors on both sides. The officer stopped in front of a door with the sign "Interrogation Room Three" affixed to its light painted, smooth surface.

Ken Martin turned to Al, his hand on the silver knob. "She's in here with Hunter. The Matthews kid is with his family, waiting to speak to the judge about his disorderly conduct." He turned the knob.

Alvin started to go in, but was detained by Ken. He looked at him inquiringly.

"I think there's something you should know before you go in there." He paused as the other man's eyes narrowed. It's something about Hunter."

"Go on."

"There was an incident at the beginning of the year. Seems like Hunter and Matthews were picked up for drunken and disorderly conduct."

Alvin Moore released a deep breath, and ran a hand over his face. Could this night get any worse, he wondered, unconsciously echoing Shawn's earlier query.

"Okay, what'd they do?"

"They were walking home from a friend's party. They'd gotten drunk there, went downtown and peed on a cop car. Actually, when they were picked up, they were drinking beer in front of a convenience store—they got some bum to purchase a six pack for 'em—when the officer apprehended them," Ken explained quietly.

Alvin passed his hands over his short, tightly curled hair. "I can't believe this!"

"The charges were dismissed since it was their first offense, but I thought you should know since it looks like the Matthews kid is still having a problem."

Alvin nodded absently, raising a both hands to massage his suddenly throbbing temples. He wasn't thinking about the Matthews kid but about Angela and Hunter. Mostly about Hunter. The guy he'd given sanction to dating his seventeen-year-old daughter.

Officer Martin gave him a minute to process the information. He had two children of his own: one a pre-teen boy and the other a thirteen year old daughter. He gazed at the older man with acute sympathy.

Alvin sighed wearily. He pulled himself together, realizing that needed to see his daughter, take her home and put this episode far behind them.

"Alright, Ken." He removed his hands from his head, holding out his right hand. The officer shook it with his own. He took a deep breath. "I think I can handle it from here." He looked at the officer as he turned to go. "Just to be clear. Angela isn't in trouble."

Ken Martin shook his head. "Not at all. I just brought them in as a precaution. Didn't want them getting into additional trouble." He sighed. "I guess I did the right thing. Matthews insisted on his kid seeing a judge. I think he's trying to scare him straight. Anyway, you can take Angela home at any time."

Alvin nodded as the officer clapped on back before heading off. He watched him go with a thoughtful expression on his face that soon turned grim after he twisted the knob and entered the room.

"_What the hell is going on here_?" Alvin Moore bellowed angrily. "Get your hands off my daughter, Hunter!"

Shawn and Angela sprang apart, his expression guilty and hers, one of guilt and fear.

"_Daddy_!"

"Sergeant Moore, I-we _weren't_ doing anything, sir. I—"

"Shawn was just trying to make me feel better, Daddy," Angela rushed to explain. She laid a restraining hand on Shawn's arm, but when her father's mouth tightened, she quickly removed it. "I mean, I was upset, and he was j-just trying to comfort me."

"Come along, Angela." Alvin strode across the room to her side, pulling her away from Shawn. Favoring him with a hard look, he gripped her arm under the elbow, intent on dragging her along with him.

"But Daddy—"

"I don't want to hear it right now," Alvin Moore growled impatiently. "We'll talk about this at home…in private."

Angela hastily looked to Shawn.

Shawn fearlessly stepped into his path, instantly responding to her unspoken plea.

"Sir, you have to let me explain what happened."

"Son, I don't have to do anything except keep my daughter safe." The dark eyes of Angela's father regarded Shawn without pity or understanding. "Something that I trusted you to do. Instead, because of your friend's drunken and lewd behavior, I'm picking my daughter up from a police station." He couldn't have sounded any angrier, yet Shawn persisted. He had to. Angela was counting on him, and the knowledge gave him courage.

"But sir, I would have gotten Angela home safely. Since Cory brought Angela and me to the party, I was going to bring him home in his car and have my brother follow me in his. Then I was going to take Angela home in Jack's car," Shawn hastily offered as explanation, his expression was on of sincere earnestness. Then remembering how the night had quickly gone sideways and his plan aborted before it'd ever had a chance of getting underway, the light blue eyes grew clouded. "It just didn't turn out that way."

Alvin let go of Angela's arm and crossed his own over his chest, an intimidating gesture on a man of his imposing height. "Since you picked my daughter up from her door, taking her away from the security of her own home," the Army man said harshly, "I'd say that it was your duty to ensure that she get home safely." He wasn't going to make it any easier on this young man whom he'd trusted with his daughter. "That much was expected of you."

Shawn wet his dry lips. "Yes, sir. I'm sorry, sir. I promise that nothing like this will ever happen again," he vowed firmly. "I just—I had to make sure that Cory was alright."

Sergeant Moore shook his head. "I'm sorry, son. Your loyalty to your friend is something I might admire if my daughter's welfare weren't involved." He wrapped his arm around Angela's shoulders protectively. "I'm afraid tonight has shown me that I can't trust your judgment; and therefore, I can't entrust Angela to you."

Angela tugged at her father's arm. "No, Daddy," she protested, her voice shaking. "It's not like that. Y-You're twisting everything. I insisted that Shawn let me come with him. He wanted me to let Topanga take me home, but I lied and said that she'd left." She looked back and forth between her father and her boyfriend. "Shawn and Cory have been friends since they were little. If Shawn's at fault, then so am I."

"Angela, don't make excuses for him," her father bit out sharply.

"I'm _not_!" she insisted, her dark eyes flashing as she tilted her head back to look up at her father. "I-I'm the one who lied because I wanted to be with Shawn. And Cory needed him, Daddy. He-we couldn't just leave him there like that."

Alvin Moore sighed. "Angela, I'm sorry about your friend. Sounds like he's a troubled young man. But I'm even sorrier to hear that you showed as poor judgment as Hunter here. That puts this whole unfortunate situation in an even worse light. That means that I can't trust either of you to make sound, adult decisions." He looked over at Shawn. "I can't leave my daughter in the care of someone who frankly and unapologetically puts another person's well-being before hers. This _Cory_ person," he said, his voice ripe with distaste, "is obviously first on your list of priorities, Hunter. And if that wasn't bad enough, there's this _drinking_ thing—"

"But I wasn't drinking, sir!" he interjected hastily. "I swear. You can ask the officer.

"I did,' he said curtly. "You weren't drinking _this_ time." The expression on Alvin Moore's face was grim. "What I'm saying is that besides your behavior tonight, you've got a few too many strikes against you as it is already, son."

Shawn's heart was beating loudly in his ears as he gazed at the unyielding face of his girlfriend's father. The familiar feeling of dread attacked him as it always did when something bad was about to happen to him.

He struggled to get his voice to work. "Sir...," he began only to pause and swallow noisily before continuing, "Sergeant Moore, please. I swear I haven't had a drink since a week after we were brought in the last time. That was months ago." He held out his hands in an unconsciously beseeching manner. "I'm _not_ an alcoholic, but I do still go to my counselor once a week."

" Alvin Moore pulled his lips between his teeth while he examined the boy's anxious face. "I'm glad you're handling—_one_ of your problems responsibly," he eventually conceded causing Shawn to feel slightly more hopeful before shattering that optimism with the stern pronouncement; "nevertheless, I have to think of what's best for my daughter. I can't allow you to endanger her safety or her reputation. Angela can't see you anymore."

Shawn was literally rocked on his feet, stepping back as though to absorb the shock to his system. He stood staring, stunned and befuddled, his brain sluggishly refused to process this devastating pronouncement. Not see Angela? That was like asking him to go without breathing or eating. She was essential to his life and his happiness. His panic rising, Shawn finally found his voice.

"Sir, you _can't_ be serious!" he exclaimed, aghast. "You-You can't _do_ this!"

His adversary drew himself up to his full height. It was as an imposing sight as it was meant to be. "I _can_, and I have to. Neither of you have been having much in the way of adult supervision. And I admit that I'm partly responsible for that myself," he admitted with surprising candor. "But that doesn't change the fact that you don't have parents at this very crucial time in a young man's life. You're older brother—who's hardly more than a kid himself— obviously has little idea of and even less input in what goes on with you, Hunter." Alvin Moore took a deep breath. "So I'm afraid my mind's made up about this."

"N-No, Daddy," Angela cried out. "_Please_." She pulled her arm from her father's grasp and ran to Shawn, throwing her arms around him.

Shawn held her tightly. Her body was shaking uncontrollably against his. He lowered his head and buryed his face in the soft curve between her neck and shoulder, inhaling her sweet familiar scent. She burst into tears on his chest.

"It'll be alright," he said hollowly around the lump in his throat. His words of comfort only seemed to make Angela cry even harder. "It's gonna be okay." He didn't know if he what he was saying was more for himself or for her.

Sergeant Moore gently pulled Angela from Shawn. Shawn's arms fell to his side limply.

Angela passed a shaking hand over her damp eyes, here breath catching repeatedly in her throat while she stared forlornly at her now ex-boyfriend.

"Although I can't be around to monitor you two at your school, I'm hoping you'll respect my decision and stay away from Angela as much as possible." He favored Shawn with a hard stare, paused and reached into his pocket, removing a handkerchief which he handed to Angela who stood beside him sniffing pathetically. "My daughter deserves a young man who'll look out for her, and who'll put her first above his own—for lack of a better word—desires." He thought of the tender scene he'd walked in on which although relatively innocent had taken on more sinister conotations in her father's eyes. "I want her with someone who has _her_ best interests at heart." The eyes that regarded Shawn were critical. "You may have had good intentions, but in reacting the way you did, you've proven to me that that young man isn't you, Hunter."

Shawn just stood looking at him, unable to defend himself. Hell, maybe he was right? He'd screwed up again, but this time, the fallout affected not only him but Angela as well. No matter how much he tried, he couldn't seem to do anything right. That little voice that represented his self-doubting psyche roused and taunted him, "Once trailer trash always trailer trash, Shawnie, my boy. And you can only hide it for so long before everyone eventually sees it."

Alvin Moore broke the contact of their eyes to look at his miserable, mute offspring. "Come along, Angela." The master sergeant grasped her hand and pulled her along after him. Just as they neared the door, Angela turned her head to look at Shawn.

She silently mouthed, '_I love you'_, and then she and her father were gone.

"I love you, too," Shawn whispered brokenly and then slowly walked over to one of the chairs lining the wall, dropping down exhaustedly into one of them to wait for Cory and the elder Matthews.

Thirty minutes later, a subdued Cory and his parents entered the room. "Come on, Shawn. I've cleared it with the officer for you to go with us," Alan Matthews told him. "Would you mind driving Cory's car home for us? I'll bring you home right after."

Shawn hauled himself to his feet. "Sure Mr. and Mrs. Matthews."

Alan Matthews clapped him on his shoulder. "Thank you for staying with Cory and for not letting him drive. I just wish my inebriated son hadn't mooned that cop car." He shook his head in annoyance. "I don't know what kind of subconscious beef he's got with the police, but I'm just glad the night judge had a sense of humor about the whole thing," he uttered with a tired smile. "He dismissed the charge of indecent exposure. I think it helped that he camps and recognized me from the store," Alan added, referring to his wilderness business.

Alan and Amy had both decided to play out the ruse of allowing Cory to think that he'd narrowly escaped conviction. They along with the judge hoped it would provide enough of a scare in addition to a long grounding to make him think twice about drinking again.

Shawn's smile was rather wan. "I guess he's got some free or discount equipment coming his way."

Alan winked and glanced around suspiciously before commenting, "That's just between you and me."

"And me," Amy Matthews said. She was standing beside her husband, and their youngest son was standing next to her. She eyed her downcast son, and threw a comforting arm around his shoulders.

"Come on, boys, let's get out of here before anything else happens."

Alan grimaced. "Bite your tongue, Amy. Frankly, I've had enough excitement for one night."

"You and me both, Dad," Cory muttered under his breath.

Alan shot him a sharp look of disapproval indicating to all that Cory would be in hot water for some time to come. But instead of blasting his son again, he dropped his arm from Shawn's shoulder and with a stiff back and disapproving visage led the way out of the police station. Amy followed with a slightly shell shocked Shawn and a morose Cory bringing up the rear.

* * *

**A/N - **Next chapter: Shawn has to decide how he's going to handle being separated from Angela, and a brother tries to defuse what could evolve into a potentially explosive situation.


	5. Chapter 5

_Chapter Five_

Shawn dragged himself over the threshold of the apartment he shared with Jack and Eric, numb and heartbroken, and still unable to believe the night's fallout.

He'd known that nothing good could come from going anywhere near Ted Brazelton, much less a party thrown at his house. A feeling of fury washed over him. He turned and punched the door to elevate some of his frustration and anger. He didn't think he'd ever forget the look of despair on Angela's face. This was all his fault. He collapsed against the door, leaning his forehead on the cool wooden surface. She had counted on him, and he'd let her down. He'd let her father down, too. There was no getting around it. Even though his sweet Angela, his angel, had attempted to take the blame on herself, Shawn knew exactly where it lay. And it wasn't with her or his poor miserable friend Cory.

He'd screwed up again and now Angela was paying for his mistake.  
So deep in thought was Shawn that he didn't realize that he wasn't alone until a voice spoke at his back, causing him to spin around.

"Hey, what's the matter with you?"

Shawn sighed heavily. "Long night," he mumbled uncommunicatively. He just stood there with his arms hanging down at his side as if uncertain what to do next.

Eric began down the stairs and got a good look at his face. He stopped short before coming the rest of the way down to the floor.

"What happened?" he asked quietly.

Shawn's eyes traveled over to where he stood. He brought them into focus, noticing with detachment that his hair was rumpled, and he was wearing boxers and nothing else. A clear sign that he'd been in bed, whether or not alone, had yet to be determined.

Supremely indifferent to Eric's varied sex life under normal circumstances, Shawn showed no spark of interest now. He advanced into the room, shoulders hunched and head down, and threw himself down on the sofa. He covered his face with his hands and vigorously rubbed them over the pale skin. The faint scruff beginning to darken his jaw rasped gently against his palms. He pulled them down and allowed his head to fall back until it met the ledge of the couch. Unblinking eyes, blank in expression, gazed up at the ceiling.

"Shawn, what happened?" Eric persisted, probing gently.

"Cory got drunk at a party," he missed seeing Eric's eyes widen to the size of quarters, "and when I was on my way over here so he could sober up before he went home, he decided to moon a cop car and get us all arrested." He turned his head, looking up at his roommate who'd come over to stand near the red couch.

Eric rifled through his hair. "Do my parents know yet?"

Shawn's head slowly bobbed up and down. "Oh yeah. Your Dad brought me home since the cops couldn't get in touch with Jack."

Eric sat down next to him. "Damn! This is bad. I thought I heard the phone, but I was um busy." He glanced up at the door to his room and then at Shawn sheepishly.

Shawn dismissed his embarrassment with a careless shrug. His head lolled forward until his chin rested on his chest. He stared down at the floor, utterly depressed. What did it matter? Neither Eric not Jack could have helped him anyway. The damage had already been done. Nobody could help him now.

"It doesn't matter, Eric," was the verbalized response that matched his mood.

Eric's eyes narrowed. They swept over his despondent roommate. "That's not all there is, is it?" He tilted his head inquiringly.

Shawn swallowed. "No," he replied, slowly shaking his head. "Angela was with me."

He heard rather than saw Eric groan.

"And so, of course, her father was called, he came down to get her, lit into me and now," he paused and seemed to be struggling a little for control before he added, "I-I can't see her anymore." Eric heard the slight break in Shawn's voice.

"Why would Angela's father take this out on you?" He frowned. "It was Cory who caused the whole thing."

Shawn raised his head to look at him directly. "Angela's father doesn't know Cory. I'm Angela's boyfriend, and she was detained in a police station because she was with me," he said sharply, his voice rising with frustration. "Because Cory's my best friend, and I was trying to keep him from getting into trouble with your parents. What else was I supposed to do? What does that guy want from me?"

"Damn, man," Eric blurted out simplistically, unable to answer the questions. "Angela's father must be a pretty tough dude."

Shawn laughed harshly. "Yeah, you could say that," he stated, his tone ironic, remembering the stern face and censorious eyes of Sergeant Moore as he'd looked down at him from his much superior height. He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands almost as if by doing so he could erase the whole hideous confrontation from his mind's eye. But it was no use. He couldn't pretend this one away. Angela was lost to him now, just like everything else he'd ever valued or loved. A wry smile twisted his lips. He'd been a fool to think that he wouldn't get kicked in the teeth this time.

Eric saw the bitter smile that was more closely resembled a grimace really. He wanted to say something comforting, but was at a loss for the words. It wasn't a time for flippancy or glibness, two forms of speech at which he was particular skilled. No, this situation called for someone with a little more depth and a means of expressing it, he thought, with a feeling of diminished self-confidence. So when the front door eased open mere seconds later, he was extremely glad to see Jack come into the room. Here was a sensitive guy who was a veritable well of empathy and understanding and shit like that. Jack could go deep. While Eric couldn't deny that every now again he had his moments, Jack was more suited to dealing with stuff like this, especially since his little brother had been getting kicked in the teeth on the regular for more years than he cared to count. Besides being out of his league on this one, Eric wanted to call his own brother anyway, and see how he was holding up after the tongue lashing and grounding he was sure Cory had received. He got up, glanced from Shawn to Jack, and quietly left the room.

"What's up with you two? You look like somebody died," Jack said, taking off his light windbreaker and throwing it over the chair near the door as he stared at Shawn. He walked over and stood in front of him, gazing down at his brother's bowed head.

Shawn didn't respond, but just gazed at the floor, a mantle of melancholy resting firmly on his shoulders.

"Alright, what's up?" Jack asked, a strong sense of unease beginning to manifest itself. "I-Is it Dad, Shawn?"

Shawn pursed his lips but didn't respond.

"Shawn? You're scaring me."

"It's not Dad," he said shortly, getting up. He didn't really feel like explaining the events of the night over again, but realized that he'd have no choice. "I got picked up with Cory and Angela tonight." He walked over to the refrigerator and took out two cans of soda. He opened one and pushed the other across the island over to Jack. "To make a long story short, Cory got drunk at this party we went to, mooned a cop car before I could bring Angela home," he raised his voice to be heard over Jack's gasp, "and the cop decided to bring us all in because he recognized her. He was in the regular Army with Sergeant Moore."

Jack came over, scratching his head absently, to sit on the stool facing Shawn. "Let me guess. Angela's grounded, and you can't see her for a month."

The hand holding the can of soda Shawn had been in the process of raising to his mouth paused in its ascent. "I can't see her at all. Her father's friend must've told him about my drinking, and along with everything else he knows about me, he's decided I'm scum. He thinks she's too good for me," he remarked, gazing down at the soda can before looking up at Jack. "And you know what? He's right. Angela can do _way_ better than me. She's smart, gorgeous and deserves to be with someone who's not a screw up."

"You're not a screw up, Shawn," Jack said, sighing. "_You_ weren't drunk, were you?"

"No. Not this time."

Jack threw up his hands, in support of having made his point. "Well, there you are. This is just a-a…" he searched for the word he wanted, "…a _random_ piece of bad luck."

Shawn's mouth twisted in a humorless smile. "Then my life is one _random_ piece of bad luck after the other, Jack. It's time for me to face it. Being friends with Cory all these years made me think that I could have things that other people have." He abruptly sat his can down on the island, stalking out of the kitchen. "But I can't. And I never will!" he spat, recklessly bounding up the stairs two at a time, and reaching his room just off the top landing, he slammed his door shut. A loud bang sounded on impact.

Jack winced, not so much due to the din, but on account of his brother's obvious pain. He chewed on his bottom lip as he thought about Shawn's situation. A couple of minutes later, he sighed heavily, feeling wholly inadequate to deal with this latest crisis. Damn, he was only twenty, and because of a sheltered and privileged upbringing hadn't been through half as much as Shawn had been through in his young life. Yet even though he was only an older brother, and a half-brother at that, he felt like he should do something. Take some kind of action to show Shawn that the situation wasn't hopeless. Jack began to mull over what he knew of the situation. Popping the top of the cold can of cola and taking a large swig of it, he wiped his mouth, coming to a decision. Maybe he wasn't their father or Shawn's mother, but he was all Shawn had, Jack mused, especially now, his mind on Cory, who seemed to be immersed in his own set of problems and realized with startling clarity that either he took up Shawn's cause with Angela's father or leave his brother to hold fast to the erroneous belief that life held nothing more for him but a series of disappointments. Placed in that perspective, his duty to Shawn was clear cut.

Hell, Jack thought, this goes beyond duty, but that was as it should be. However rocky their relationship, Shawn was his little brother, and whether he knew it or not or even wanted to believe it, Jack loved him and wanted the best for him.

For the half a year that Shawn had been dating Angela, he'd seen a maturation he hadn't thought possible in the philandering slacker. He didn't want it to stop now. Angela was good for Shawn and somehow, someway, he, Jack Hunter, would find a way to get through to her father and get them back together. Gnawing on his fingernail, he conjured a mental picture of the large, battle hardened Army soldier Shawn had described and amended his vow. He'd get them back together…even if he had to die trying.

~~*~~

The next afternoon, Jack presented himself at the Moore residence. Once the decision to beard the lion in his den had been made, he decided that there was no time like the present. Especially considering Sergeant Moore's extensive traveling and he wanted to get this thing settle if he could without more delay.

Ingrained good manners had prevented him from showing up without calling first. Angela's father had been cordial enough on the phone even though Jack had heard the reserve in his voice. Still, Jack had been encouraged since he hadn't hung up on him or refused his request for an impromptu interview.

Standing in front of the door of the modest house, Jack straightened his shoulders and lifted his head. He was dressed more formally than he would have been on a Saturday afternoon in a dark blue sports jacket, grey slacks and dark brown Italian leather loafers. His silk knit shirt was a soft looking off white color. He looked preppy although that hadn't been his intention.

He cleared his throat again, raised his hand to knock on the door and was surprised to see it whip open before his hand had gotten anywhere near the bright red painted surface.

Angela stood in the doorway. She nervously glanced over her shoulder before stepping outside, closing the door behind her.

"I overheard my Dad saying that you could come over. Jack, I just wanted to thank you for trying to help us," she said, and surprised him by throwing her arms around him.

When she'd removed her arms and moved away, Jack awkwardly patted her arm.

"I'm glad to help…if I can," he said modestly. Despite his words, Angela continued to gaze up at him, her brown slightly almond shape eyes hopeful.

She really is a pretty little thing, Jack thought suddenly, having never really paid that much attention to her before then. Yet now he was beginning to understand on a more personal level a few of the reasons why Shawn was so smitten with her. Flawless dark chocolate skin, classic features and soulful brown eyes that were surrounded by black eyelashes as thick as they were long were striking attributes worthy of admiration. Yes, she was a very pretty girl. The light pink terry sweat outfit she currently wearing was very becoming to her figure and skin tone. The figure hugging ensemble accentuated her modest breasts, tiny cinched waist and rounded hips. Pure white sneakers peeked out underneath the bottom of the flared pants. Her dark brown hair was pulled into a cute ponytail at the back of her head and matched the casual mode of her attire.

Angela shifted her weight from leg to the other, feeling a little self-conscious under his intent gaze. Her eyes dropped from his, the long lashes fanning onto her cheeks in dark crescents. The movement of her arms as they rose to lie over her chest brought Jack out of his trance. He colored up, realizing that he had been staring which was very rude and extremely inappropriate since she was his brother's girlfriend.

The door opening behind them put an end to the awkward moment. It was almost with relief that Jack welcome the interruption in the form of Angela's father. He eagerly stepped forward, extending his hand passed where Angela stood to her clearly surprised father who hadn't been expecting enthusiasm from his daughter's rejected suitor's older brother. Nevertheless, he reached out, taking the younger man's hand in a strong grip.

"Sergeant Moore," Jack greeted him, wringing his hand heartily, "I'm Jack Hunter, Shawn's brother."

"Yes," Alvin Moore said in measured tones, eyeing Jack a little cautiously. He tugged on his hand and Jack belatedly released it. "Let's go inside."

He stole a glance at his silent daughter, his lips tightening with disapproval. Her eyes were downcast, and tension eradiated from her slight form. Alvin Moore transferred his gaze to his guest, motioning for him to come inside.

As both the Moores followed Jack, Alvin Moore hung back in the small foyer, his arm barring his daughter from following their guest.

"And just where do you think you're going? You're not going to be apart of this discussion, Angela." Her father raised his arm, pointing to the stairs. "I want you upstairs now. I don't even know how you knew about this."

His raised eyebrows said he wanted an answer before she left. She swallowed hard. "I picked up the phone upstairs at the same time you did when Jack called," she began, squaring her shoulders before continuing bravely even though she didn't feel it internally, "and instead of hanging up, I listened."

Alvin sucked in his breath. "Angela Moore, you will go upstairs and remain there until I tell you otherwise."

Angela's chin went up. "I'm not a child, Daddy," she declared defiantly. "You can't run my life. And I'm not my mother either."

"_Angela_," he growled in warning, trying with supreme effort to keep his voice low. "I don't think you _really_ want to do this."

Folding her soft lips together to keep from saying something she'd regret, Angela turned away and began climbing the stairs, pausing mid-way to toss a look of resentment over her shoulder that mercifully went unseen before running the rest of the way up.

Already on his way to the living room and his guest, Alvin sighed, distressed by the growing schism between himself and his only child. He stopped short, cringing as a door slammed upstairs and then trudged on to face the brother of the worthless young man who was the cause of the present dissension in his family. This meeting held as little appeal for him as had the altercation he'd just had with his daughter.

His must have face reflected his mindset because upon seeing it, Jack cleared his throat nervously, reminding himself that he was here as much for Angela as for Shawn. The two of them were depending on him.

Alvin sank down into the chair opposite much as he'd sat across from Shawn the week past. He sat forward, with his elbows on his large thighs. Jack noticed that he had on his dress uniform's dark olive dress pants and the light olive green shirt. He had abandoned both tie and jacket, and the first few buttons undone with the sleeves rolled up to his just below his elbows. He must have had Army business that afternoon.

"What can I do for you, Mr. Hunter?" he asked, his manner stiff and reserved.

Jack's eyes flickered in recognition of his tactics. He'd seen his step father use formality as a barrier too many times when working in his offices as a first wave of offense when dealing with a hostile entity. It more often than not proved to be an effect one. And Sergeant Alvin Moore had been trained in tactical warfare. He realized with a jolt of discomfiture that he would have to watch his step with this man. He'd be a formidable adversary.

"Mr. Hunter?"

Jack refocused and mentally snapped to attention. "Call me Jack. Please."

Alvin Moore stonewalled him. He just sat looking at him, the expression on his face plainly asking him to just get on with whatever it was he'd come to say.

Flushing painfully, Jack's hand went to the collar of his shirt. He made himself lower it as unobtrusively as possible. He didn't want to give away just how tense he was feeling. "Okay, well, I wanted to meet with you because I think you've gotten the wrong impression about my brother," Jack stated bluntly.

Alvin more sat back in his chair, his arms folding across his wide chest.

"I don't think I have," he contradicted him coolly.

Ignoring his pessimism, Jack went on. "That's not to say that he hasn't had some problems what with our Dad and his Mom abandoning him regularly, but he's a fighter, Sergeant Moore. Many other kids would have just given up on having a better life and given into the streets. But Shawn didn't. He's struggled and really pulled his life together. He even made it into Pennbrook." Jack watched as Alvin Moore's eyebrows shot up at that news. "Look, it's no secret that Shawn's made a couple of missteps, like any teenager, but his really on the right course now. And more than that, he loves Angela and would do anything for her. He'd never let her come to harm, sir."

"It seems we disagree again, Mr. Hunter. This Cory person has Shawn's devotion as far as I can tell from what happened Friday night. Angela was just an after thought," he remarked harshly. "I won't let my daughter be hurt either emotionally or physically due to neglect by your brother. She deserves someone better, and I think I've found a more appropriate candidate for her."

Jack's mouth fell open. A good twenty-four hours hadn't passed yet since he'd broken up Shawn and Angela, and he had a replacement already lined up? What the hell?

Alvin Moore stood up. "Now if that's all you came to say, I think you can see that you're wasting your time here. And I want to thank you for letting me know about Pennbrook. I believe that's the school Angela wants to go to, but now that I know Shawn's going to be there, other arrangements will have to made," he said coldly, his face austere.

Jack stared up at him, unmoving. "Other…arrangements?" he asked hesitantly, cringing inside. Had he made things worse for Shawn and Angela? Had he inadvertently accomplished the exact opposite of his mission?

Alvin Moore inclined his head. "My daughter has been accepted at several fine schools," he informed him proudly. "One of them being Stanford University, and at this point, I really think that's where she's going to be next fall."

Jack scrambled to his feet. "Pennbrook is a first rate school, Sergeant Moore. It has one of the top liberal arts and humanities programs in the country. Shawn's mentioned Angela's interest in writing." Jack fought the urge to raise his hands to his hips in response to the man's unreasonableness. "Are you saying that you're willing to send your daughter across the country to a school that's ranked lower than Pennbrook in the area she's interested in just to keep her and Shawn apart?" he spluttered incredulously.

"I don't have to explain myself to you, Hunter," he blustered, irritated by having been put on the spot, and being unable to answer the charge without sounding like an idiot.

Unimpressed, Jack cocked an eyebrow. "Is that the best you can do?" he challenged him, exhibiting a hint of the infamous Hunter temper.

Angela's father face tightened at the criticism. He looked down at the shorter man haughtily. "As her father, it's _my business_ to decide where she'll go to school and who she dates," he said, emphasizing who's business his daughter's future plans were for his unruly tongued guest.

"You can choose my college for me, Daddy," Angela called out from the bottom of the stairs, causing Jack's head whipped around at the sound of her voice while her father's snapped up in surprise and chagrin, "but that doesn't mean that I'll fall in with your plans for me to date Ted Brazelton because _you_ think he's '_suitable_'. And banishing me to Stanford doesn't mean that I'll forget about Shawn either." The bitterness in her voice shocked her father and Jack, too.

"Angela, go up to your room, now!" her father hollered. "And this time, _stay there_ until I come up, young lady!"

Her face crumpled in distress, and as she pivoted, she threw over her shoulder in a final act of rebellion, "Tell Shawn I love him," before running up the stairs, her sneakers pounding on the solid wood treads. The echo of a door slamming once again reverberated off the walls.

Alvin Moore seethed with anger, not unmixed with sadness at the regrettable state of affairs between his daughter and himself. They'd always had a loving relationship and a close bond of affection between them in spite of his frequent traveling for the Army. Now all of that changed on account of a boy who wasn't worthy of wiping her shoes much less receiving her love.

It's all that punk's fault, Alvin thought fiercely, more determined than ever to eradicate all traces of Shawn Hunter from his daughter's life. He would run her social life from now until she went away to college. He had remembered Brazelton as the last guy she'd dated before Hunter, and knew that he still called Angela because he'd taken the phone calls, talked to the boy briefly at those times and sensed that he was still very much interested in his daughter.

In fact, a couple of weeks ago, the last time he'd spent an evening fielding calls for her while she was out with Hunter, Ted, thinking to get a couple of brownie points with his ex's old man whom he knew was a football fan, had purposely mentioned being recruited by Stanford and a couple of other schools. He'd also let slip his grade point average, meant to let Sergeant Moore know that he had academic skills that more than match his athletic abilities. Although Alvin Moore had been mildly impressed, he hadn't thought much about Ted since Angela didn't seem interested, but the problem of Hunter's unsuitability made the young man seem a like a life line thrown to a floundering father.

The boy had a bright future ahead of him. Moreover, he came from a good, solid family. This was the kind of young man to who deserved his precious Angela. And with her needing an escort to her prom now that Hunter was thankfully out of the picture, he couldn't think of a better time to renew her former relationship with the football player. If still available, Ted would certainly fit the bill.

With this in mind, Alvin Moore rudely and in a move that was completely out of character for him, abruptly started for the entrance to his home. Opening the door, he stood beside it, expressionlessly. "I think we've concluded our business, Hunter."

A prolonged burst of air left Jack's lungs. All he'd done was to make things worse, he thought sadly, slowly walking over to where his host stood, erect and with eyes staring straight ahead of him as if at attention, in anticipation of unwanted guest's departure.

As the door closed with a decisive snap behind him, Jack leaned against its painted, etched façade, wondering how he was going to break the news to Shawn that not only was Angela still forbidden to see him, but her father already had a replacement in the wings in the form of John Adams High School's star wide receiver, the despised Ted Brazelton.

~~*~~

Shawn moaned and turned over, squinting at the legged alarm clock dancing around on his nightstand. It kept buzzing until he blindly reached over, assaulting it with his hand. The noise stopped, and lying on his back, Shawn gradually drifted off again. Five minutes later, it started up again and, dragging himself up right, he sat on the side of his bed, rubbing his eyes, his mouth open in a wide yawn before he leaned over ending the noise for the second and last time that morning. Just as the last buzz died down, Jack poked his head into the room.

"Finally!" he cried loudly, bursting into Shawn's semi-clean room. He was dressed already since he had early classes that morning. He had on tight blue jeans and a dark short sleeved muscle shirt that showed off his biceps and muscular physique. His mousey brown hair was carefully gelled and spiked, giving him that fashionable bed head look.

As he stood in Shawn's room, he looked around warily as if expecting something crawly to come out of the shadows to run up his pants leg. He rarely ventured into his younger brother's inner sanctum. When Shawn had first come to live with him, the room had resembled a pig sty before he'd lived there a solid week. The very different brothers had done nothing but fight about how much of a slob he was. However, this time, it was cleaner and more orderly than he had any reason to expect. In fact, it actually looked like something a person, and not a farm animal, could live in and be reasonably comfortable. Relaxing, Jack naturally attributed this newfound neatness to Shawn's relationship with Angela. He was aware that she'd got into the habit of coming over sometimes to spend the odd evening with Shawn, and they'd retreat to his room to watch movies, listen to music in private or just be together without Jack or Eric continually walking through the living room.

Presently, Shawn ran his hands through his hair, pushing it back from his face. Although he had school that morning, he didn't seem to be in much of hurry to make it on time when normally he would be dashing into the bathroom to get cleaned up and running around the room throwing on clothes at a frantic pace since he never set his alarm for more than an hour before he had to be in his first class. This Monday morning, however, he seemed to be moving in slow motion. He'd spent the entire weekend moping about the apartment, sleeping a lot, showing none of the usual voracious appetite that shocked many considering his slim build, a state of affairs that worried Jack. He was taking the break up hard.

Although not unsympathetic to Shawn's plight, Jack folded his arms impatiently. "Do something about that-that _bazooka_ in your shorts. I don't want to have to look at it while I'm talking to you," he complained.

Shawn scratched his arm through the soft cotton of his white, short sleeved t-shirt and glanced down at his morning hard-on. "So don't look at it," he countered huskily, in a raspy morning voice.

"That's kind of difficult to do, _Pinocchio_—"

A crack of hoarse laughter interrupted him. "Pinocchio had a long _schnoz_, Einstein, not a big _schlong_," his brother snickered. "I may not be the brightest crayon in the box, but even I know that." Yet before a full scale argument could ensue, he got up, stumbling out the door to the bathroom across from his room. Fifteen minutes later, he came back and started the routine of getting dressed.

"Okay, so how're you going to handle this?" Jack asked, his eyes following Shawn as he went into his closet.

He stuck his head out of the closet's opening. "Handle what?"

Jack snorted and put his hands on his hips. "Don't play, Shawn," he shot back. "This thing with Angela. Seeing her at school today. You've got to stay away from her…for now, at least."

Shawn's head disappeared. A minute later, he emerged fully clothed in a black t-shirt with some kind of funny logo on it, tan khakis, and black Timberland boots.

"Look, Jack, don't tell me what to do, okay?" he said belligerently, giving him a hard stare from underneath his heavy brows that was meant to intimidate.

It fell short of its goal. "Hey, don't take your frustration out on me, Shawn," he admonished him sharply. "I'm not the one who's keeping you from seeing Angela. But I'll tell you something." He paused, watching Shawn spray on a spurt of cologne and hoist his book pack onto his shoulder. "If you don't back off and stay away from her now, it's going to cost you and big. It might be the biggest mistake you've ever made. And Angela's gonna pay, too, because for some crazy reason, which is making me wonder about her mental health, she loves you."

Shawn roughly shouldered his way past him as though he hadn't heard a word. However, just when Jack thought he was going to walk out, his warning unheeded, he stopped short, threw back his head and then pivoted on his feet. He let his backpack slide off his arm. It landed on the floor with a thump.

"What do you want from me, huh?" He raised his forearms and hands out from his sides as he came back to stand in front of Jack, his attitude aggressive and his disposition bad. "So I'm just supposed to walk away from her like some pussy because _Daddy_ says so?" Shawn looked at him with contempt. "Fuck _that_! Maybe that's what'd you'd do, but I can guarantee that ain't gonna happen."

Jack met his gaze without flinching. "Yeah, Shawn that's what I would do, and you know what? I'd get the girl in the end. Too bad you won't though, you dumb, selfish meathead," he warned him, digust lacing his voice.

Shawn's lips curved unpleasantly. "Yeah, whatever," he commented dismissively. "Unlike you, _I_ wasn't raised to be anybody's bitch."

Jack felt the cut. "Hmmm, you love Angela alright, but just not enough to put her above your macho _pride_ one measily time, you stupid, egotistical prick," Jack bit out nastily.

Stung, Shawn widened his stance and flexed the hands hanging down at his sides. "Don't make me kick your ass, Jack!" he gritted out furiously, his jaw jutting out pugnaciously.

Jack pretended not to have heard him. He tilted his head thinking of how courageously Angela had defied her father for his ass wipe of a younger brother. "You know what? Maybe Angela _is_ better off without you." He dismissively flicked his hand in his brother's direction. Disappointed and feeling like he'd let Angela down again, he turned on his heel. Yet before he could make two steps, a heavy weight landed on his back, propelling him face first into the wall.

Shawn gripped Jack's arm, twisting it behind his back in between them. His forearm was wedged against Jack's neck, pressing his cheek into the rough plaster surface.

"You take that back, you stuck up, hoity-toity, snot-faced, spoiled little _shit_!"

Jack struggled, trying to work his arm free, but failed. He'd been captain of his wrestling team, and this wasn't the first time he and his stubborn half brother had tussled. However, they'd been pretty much evenly matched. Not so now. Shawn seemed to have the strength of ten men at the moment, probably the result of pent up aggression built up over the weekend, Jack surmised, as he kept trying to break his hold. But nothing he tried worked; he couldn't move.

Shawn applied a knee to his back.

"Let me go, Shawn!" Jack mumbled, his voice muffled since half of his face was pushed into the wall. He continued to try to get free. "I'm going to kick your pale, skinny ass for this!"

Shawn ignored him, his grip tightening. "I love Angela. I'd do _anything_ for her," he ground out querulously, his teeth clenched so tightly that the muscles of his jaw bulged. "And don't you _ever_ imply otherwise."

"That sting a little, you selfish turd?" Jack taunted him breathlessly, imperceptibly inching his right arm that was pressed as though in a vice between his body and the wall a little to the side. "The truth hurt, pretty boy?"

Shawn scowled ferociously behind him. "I'm going to show you hurt, Jack-_ass_!"

Jack got his arm free and swung around, catching Shawn off guard. Jack used one of his wrestling moves, hooking his leg behind Shawn's knees and sweeping his legs out from under him. He fell hard along with Jack coming down on top of him because of the death grip he had on him.

The ensuing fight undid the remainder of the room's semi-neat appearance. They knocked over a lamp, the clock and the nightstand itself before falling over onto the bed that they bounced off of and onto the floor, dragging the blue, tan and red plaid comforter and light blue top sheet with them. They rolled and tussled on the polished hardwood floor, narrowly missing Shawn's stereo, TV, VCR recorder/player and play station perched on a wide console lining the expanse of wall in the between the bedroom and closet doors. Heavy panting, the sound of footwear pounding the floor and low key grunts along with pungent curses hung on the air.

Shawn had Jack in a headlock, his forearm around his throat. Jack rocked back and forth until they rolled over so that now he was lying on Shawn with his back to him. Unable to remove his arm from his neck, he reached back with both hands, grabbing a handful each of Shawn's hair. He grunted with pain. Jack quickly reared back with his head, butting Shawn in the face. He quickly followed up the attack, ramming one elbow into his captor's gut.

Shawn finally let him go. He cupped his lower jaw and wrapped an arm around his ailing stomach.

Jack rolled off Shawn onto his side. He laid on the floor next his brother, his hand automatically going up to his throat, gasping for air.

"You puny prick!" he managed to croak. "I…could h-have…died of asph-_asphyxiation_!"

Shawn shot him a glance full of animosity which he didn't bother to conceal. "Drama queen," he muttered audibly, still breathing hard. "I wasn't even using all…of my strength. T-Told you pumping all…that iron was a waste…of time."

"Yeah, but only if I want to be…a ninety-eight pound weakling…like you!"

Shawn guffawed. "That's why you had to fight so hard…Mr. '_Captain of My Wrestling Team'_," Shawn uttered, mimicking Jack's prideful tone with insulting precision, "...because I'm such a weakling." An insufferably smug expression marked his features as he raised his shirt to look at the reddening bruise on his stomach but not before tossing out, "Freakin' pathetic," in an intentionally audible murmur.

"Conceited jerk!" Jack yelled, incensed.

"Muscle bound dipshit!" Shawn snarled.

"Wanker!"

"Dickhead!"

"Fuck up!"

"_Ass-hole_!"

Shawn glowered at him, his blue eyes flashing with hostility. Jack glared back hard with equal enmity in his brown orbs. Each tried to stare the other down. Time stretched out as the brothers' healthy Hunter egos and obstinate wills clashed. Abruptly and without warning, their stern visages began to crack. Both erupted into sudden laughter. They laughed long and hard, eventually beating the floor with their hands, trying unsuccessfully to stem the tide of laughter. The hilarity last for a long ten minutes because every time their mirth would subside to a manageable degree, one would catch the other's eye, initiating new hoots and chortles of merriment. Finally, Jack rolled onto his back, puffing out his cheeks. A few seconds later, Shawn sat up. After a few more involuntary chuckles, their case of the giggles gradually began to dissipate.

Shawn ran his hands though his hair, eyeing Jack speculatively.

"What's wrong with us?" he asked breathlessly, winded from fighting and laughing for such an extended period of time. "Why do we…have to fight? Can't we just have…a regular conversation…like normal brothers?"

Lifting his head to gaze at his brother, Jack grinned and hunched his shoulder in a quick mini shrug. "It's how we communicate," he replied, pausing to swallow a big gulp of air. "Probably because…we didn't grow up together."

Shawn digested this, breathing loudly and heavily from his exertions. Jack took advantage of his silence to get down to brass tactics.

"Look, about this thing…with Angela. You can be smart," Jack panted, wasting no time in getting back to the point while vigorously rubbing his wrist and elbow, "or you can be stupid. It's up to you."

Shawn flipped his hair out of his eyes. "What do you mean?" he asked, sucking in his cheeks as he pulled more air into his lungs. The action made him wince. He raised his hand to gingerly touch one corner of his mouth; his fingers come away with a sight stain of red. He experimentally licked the edge of his mouth. It tasted salty like blood.

"Damn Jack! You busted my lip," he cried resentfully.

Jack snorted derisively. "It was just a head butt, pretty boy," he snapped. "And you nearly broke my neck and twisted my arm off!"

Shawn's upper lip curled. "Cry me a river," his little brother sneered mockingly. He was totally unrepentant. "Want some more?"

Jack reached into his back pocket, taking out a white handkerchief and waving it in surrender. He was already tired, and the morning was growing late. He had a couple of class that morning, the same as Shawn had school, and he still had yet to talk some sense into him.

Shawn eyed the handkerchief askance. "So we're even?" he queried, getting up and going over to his bed. He plopped down on the end of it.

Exhausted, Jack nodded, agilely rolling over onto his hands and knees to get up before going to join him. "You've got to man up, little brother," he advised him quietly as he sank down beside him.

His head bowed, Shawn said, his voice low and uncertain, "I-I don't know if I can do it, Jack." Without turning his head, his eyes slid to the side to glance at Jack. "Stay away from Angela, I mean."

He gently grabbed the scruff of Shawn's neck and gave him a little shake. "Bro, you've got to. I've seen my step father broker business deals that people thought couldn't be done by exercising patience and winning the other guy's trust." Jack spread his hands. "It's the only chance you've got. You have to prove to Angela's father that you're not just some irresponsible punk kid from the wrong side of the tracks."

Squeezing his eyes shut, Shawn massaged his forehead, thinking about what Jack had said. Gradually, he began to nod slowly at first, then more vigorously. He was beginning to comprehend Jack's strategy. But what if he couldn't pull it off? he thought panicking. What if all he ended up proving was that he was just trailer trash fronting as someone respectable? What then? His eyes popped opened as he turned his head to look at Jack.

Jack either read his mind or his face. "Then you lose Angela. Her Dad will ship her away from here in a heartbeat without compunction." He looked down at his hands and sighed heavily. "I-uh-went to see him Saturday."

Shawn's eyes widened in surprise.

"I didn't tell you because nothing came of it. I thought I could talk him into giving you another chance, but he wouldn't budge. In fact," he added, studying his manicured fingernails even more intensely," he mentioned-um-Angela possibly going to Stanford University this fall."

Shawn stared at Jack's profile, stunned. Slowly, unspeakable wrath darkened the light blue eyes to deep azure.

"Stanford! But that's in California." His eyes narrowed as an elusive memory attempted to push through from the recesses of his mind. Something he'd heard recently. Before much longer, his eyes widened as it dawned on him. "Wait a minute! That's were that bastard Brazelton—" He paused abruptly, carefully watching the wave of red rise up into his brother's face, confirming Shawn's worst fears. He swore descriptively and vilely. Jack grimaced, but showed no other emotion for his brother's passionate inventiveness.

Shawn's diatribe finally wound down. "Are you trying to tell me that he's already planning to hook up Angela with that…" More uncomplimentary adjectives criticizing the size of his rival's brain and sexual organ spewed from Shawn's mouth. He sprang up, grabbing his head. He proceeded to howl like an animal in pain. However, in the next moment, he straightened, intoning ominously, "If that uncoordinated fuck _dares_ to even _talk_ to Angela…if I so much as _think_ I see him _anywhere_ near her, Daddy or no—"

"Shawn, you've got to think and focus." Jack got up and grabbed Shawn's arms. He shook him hard. "I know that isn't going to be easy for you," he commented without intentional malice, "but you're going to have to prioritize here. This is not the time to go off half cocked on some jealous vendetta."

The thunder clouds that had gathered on Shawn's face, began to abate a little, much to Jack's relief. His little brother had a hot temper and an impulsive nature that led him into situations that while easily entered into often proved more difficult from which to extricate himself.

Shawn regarded Jack solemnly. "Why're you being so helpful?" He tilted his head dark head. "Not so long ago, you were saying that Angela and I were getting too serious. Why the one-eighty, Jack? I'd have thought you'd be siding with Sergeant Moore," Shawn said frankly.

Jack bristled at what he interpreted to be an insult. "Side with a man who things my little brother isn't good enough for his daughter? That's hardly the same thing as wishing you and Angela would slow down a little," he argued, irked and a bit hurt by Shawn's assumption. "The man doesn't know you, Shawn. He's got you pegged all wrong, and I want you to show him that he is wrong about you."

Shawn sighed and folded his lips between his teeth, still not quite certain that he was up to the task. Angela was his everything. This was going to be hard. But he'd try anything if it meant being with her. She was worth the effort of trying to convince her overbearing, opinionated father of his worthiness. He smiled slightly. It also felt good to know that Jack cared and was on his side.

The two brothers exchanged shy, muted looks of affection. Shawn awkwardly cuffed Jack on the shoulder.

"You really tried to talk to Angela's father about letting us see each other, huh?" he asked, his tone awed rather than skeptical.

"Yeah." Jack nodded, looking away. "I really did that."

Shawn drew in a sharp breath and let it out slowly. "Well then, forget what I said about you taking Sergeant Moore's side," he said gruffly. "That was—way out of line." That was as much of an apology as his stubborn nature would allow him to offer up.

He held out his fist

Jack dapped it with his own, contrasting pale and tan hands coming in contact briefly.

"So we're cool now?"

A slow smile curved Jack's thin lips. "Sure. We're cool."

"Good." The tension in Shawn's body eased. " 'Cause I really need a ride to school, or Feeny's gonna kill me for being late."

Chuckling, Jack wagged his head and grabbed Shawn affectionately by the scruff of his neck. "Okay, come on."

Shawn scooped up the backpack he'd dropped by the door. Jack was right behind him.

Shawn glanced over his shoulder. "Oh, and Jack?"

"Huh?"

"_Wanker_?" he asked, his tone scornful. "You called me a _wanker_? Who says that?"

"Can I help it if I'm well traveled?" Jack responded with his nose in the air. "You _uncouth clod_. That better?"

Unfazed, Shawn answered with a colorful comeback.

Eric, who'd quietly come out of his room unbeknownst to the amicably squabbling siblings as they proceeded across the living room, was leaning over the side of the railing watching and listening with a puzzled look on his sleepy face. He ventured to offer his contribution to the "_discussion_".

"Idiots," he called out loudly, startling both into a bewildered silence. Then with a sharp nod of his head in their direction and satisfied that he'd done his part, he sauntered into the kitchen to prepare his breakfast sandwich of cereal and peanut butter.

Jack looked at Shawn, his expression pained. "Sometimes, I'm _really_ scared for him," he muttered, shaking his head.

Shawn chuckled, and the brothers left with their roommate blissfully unaware and whistling off key.

* * *

**A/N: Next Chapter - **Shawn's course of action or inaction is put into play, but it backfires on him with surprising results. Angela ups the ante by defying her father.


	6. Chapter 6

_Chapter Six_

Fifteen minutes after the last bell rang, Shawn unobtrusively slipped through the open doorway and into his chair at the back of the room just behind Cory's, letting his backpack slide off his shoulder onto the chair's maple colored back in one seamless and soundless move.

"Detention, Mr. Hunter," George Feeny called out from the blackboard where he standing, his back facing the room as he furiously scribbling down notes for the class's lecture.

Damn! Caught again by old eagle eyes. Shawn sighed and leaned forward to whisper to Cory, "I forgot he had eyes in the back of his head."

Cory snickered inaudibly.

"And ears there as well, Mr. Hunter," Mr. Feeny acknowledged expressionlessly, turning around as he wiped his hands clean of white chalk. "Want to try to for double duty tomorrow, too?"

Shawn slouched back in his seat. "No, Mr. Feeny. I have to work tomorrow."

"Then shut up, and speak only when spoken to…" Shawn opened his mouth only to be cut off by Feeny, who while sternly looking at him over the steel rim of his eyeglasses, added,"…by me, Mr. Hunter."

Outmaneuvered and outgunned, Shawn grinned good-naturedly and raised his hands in surrender.

Satisfied with this show of submissiveness, Feeny nodded and without misisng a beat, began to lecture.

Class continued uneventfully for the remaining forty-five minutes. At its end, Shawn and Cory strolled out into the hall and over to their lockers, conversing in low tones about their boring weekends.

A few minutes later, while they were still talking and leaning against the grey metal lockers, Angela came bounding down the hall, her face eager and searching.

Shawn's back was to her as he faced Cory, so wasn't aware of her until the clean delicate scent of her favorite perfume wafted underneath his nose.

Cory's eyes slid past him as Shawn quickly turned around.

An involuntary smile of pleasure broke out on Shawn's face. His assessing eyes quickly took inventory of the short blue shirt that flared around her dark upper thighs, the round necked white and blue striped tank top layered over another plain white one and a pair of white espadrilles, the straps of which cris-crossed up her lower calves. Her dark hair was styled in the sassy cork screw curls that he loved. His smiled widened with approval.

Angela came right up to him and throwing her arms around his neck, immediately leaned in for a kiss. Their lips almost met but Shawn happened to see a movement behind her a second before his eyes closed, and he belatedly remembered Sergeant Moore's dictum and his own game plan. Shawn moved back and grabbed her arms, pulling them from around his neck, and as he did so, he saw the back of a tall form that looked like Ted Brazelton hurrying down the hallway in the opposite direction. He cursed under his breath.

He didn't trust that bastard as far as he could trip him, and knew that he'd like nothing better than to have something to run back to tell Angela's father, thus creating more problems for Shawn where getting back with Angela's was concerned. Gradually, he realized that Angela was looking up at him in surprise, her former smile fading into nothing.

He groaned internally, understanding in that moment that this abstinence for the greater good was going to be harder than he'd ever imagined.

"Shawn?" Her voice called him from his pessimistic reverie. "What's wrong, baby? Don't you want to kiss me?"

He dropped her arms, but not before carefully bringing them down in front of her, and stepped back, prompting Cory who was directly behind him to move back as well.

"Angela," he began uneasily. She was looking at him with a conspicuously hurt expression that tugged at his heart and made him feel like a brute. He wanted nothing more than to pull her into his arms and erase that look, but that was forbidden now. And their enemy was lurking somewhere near, he was sure of it, waiting and anticipating their next move so he could run to Angela's father like the punk he was.

But, Shawn thought, determination strengthening his resolve, he wan't going to get the ammunition he needed.

"Shawn, why're you pushing me away?" She took a step toward only to have him back up a pace. She stood watching him with confusion on her pretty face. "We haven't seen or talked to each other all weekend. I-I miss you," she said softly.

Shawn squeezed his eyes shut briefly, suppressing a groan. "Baby, I miss you, too, but we've got to be smart about this," he said echoing Jack. "We can't give your father anything else to use against us."

Angela shifted her weight to one foot, her hip jutting out. "And how would my father know what we do in school? You're being paranoid, Shawn," she chided,

"No," he shook his head, "I'm not. I don't trust that guy Brazelton. Look, if he doesn't already know about what happened Friday, he's going to find out soon. He hates me and would go running off to rat us out to your father just on general principle."

Angela considered his words, and he knew by the resigned tilt of her head that she realized he was right. Still, she wanted reassurance that nothing had changed. She wanted his arms around her and his lips on hers. But obviously that wasn't going to happen. Everything had changed.

"I guess you're right." It was said grudgingly.

Shawn released the breath he hadn't known he had been holding. Involuntarily, his hand rose to take hers, but he quickly pulled it back. He used it to rake through his lustrous tresses in frustration.

"We've got to stay away from each other." He saw her face fall, and hurriedly added, "Just for the time being. As much as I hate this, I really couldn't stand it if he sent you away to college to keep us apart, baby. We've got to look at the bigger picture here." Although he was careful to keep his distance, his blue eyes spoke for him, doing the double duty of plainly expressing how hard this was for him as well as beseeching her to understand. "I-I'm not even sure I can do it. Seeing you here every day and not touching you or talking to you is gonna kill me. I'm not gonna be able to do this on my own. Please, baby, say you'll help me?"

His words were like a balm. She allowed them to sooth her anxiety. She exhaled and nodded. "Okay. I trust you, Shawn. We'll handle this like you want." Angela smiled at him lovingly and reassuringly.

Shawn returned it with one of his own before turning away quickly before his feelings overcame his better judgment. Leaning down to heft his book pack over one shoulder, he practically sprinted down the hall in the direction he thought he saw a lanky form with a gold and red letterman's jacket go down.

The little sneak, Shawn thought angrily. I'll show him what comes of spying on me. However, it was gone by the time he shouldered his way through the crowd of students.

Cory took off for his next class after favoring Angela an uncomfortable but sympathetic little smile. He knew how she felt. In spades.

Angela sighed, got her books from her locker and trudged off to her next class.

The next few weeks ushered in May and passed by in a whirlwind of activities for the graduating seniors: finals, more parties and for Shawn and Angela continued separation. Shawn seemed to have an easier time staying away from Angela than she did him, or at least, that's the way it seemed to her as she watched him interact with their friends and others with an easy that disappeared, replaced by awkwardness as soon as she was within arms length of him.

She surreptitiously watched him with other girls. As soon as word of their breakup had made the rounds, girls had been coming out of the woodwork, each jostling for their shot at the newly single dreamboat. Angela couldn't label his behavior with them as flirting exactly, but it didn't help seeing him be so natural with them when all she got was avoidance that did nothing to allay her fear that they were growing apart. School had become painfully dull with finals over, and her boyfriend acting like she didn't exist. She couldn't wait for the semester to officially end. Even Ted hanging around more and more didn't seem to pique Shawn's interest. All suggestions that they meet up at Topanga's or somewhere private away from prying eyes met with refusals couched in unsatisfactory explanations that were tinged with impatience. Angela no longer knew what to think.

And if Ted's constant surveillance and Shawn's cold shouldering wasn't enough, then there was Stuart Minkus following her around like an adoring puppy. Every time she turned around, there he was shadowing her under one pretext or another: you dropped your pen, Angela; or can I borrow you notes for history class. Angela's nerves were taunt and tense like fine horse hairs strung too tightly across the bridge and fingerboard of a violin, ready to pop from the slightest addition of pressure. Life at home sucked too for Angela. Her father was no where near relenting, and had been sickening in his encouragement of Ted's pursuit of her.

Certain that the trend was going to continue, that night when Angela got home from Topanga's, she tried to stealthily creep up to her room unseen.

Having noticed her father's car outside on the drive strip, she knew that he was home, so Angela gingerly crept into the foyer in an attempt to avoid the living room. The same room which nightly had stopped just shy of becoming a battle zone, mostly because Angela refused to talk to him when he began belittling Shawn.

As she sidled up the stairs, a commanding voice stopped her on mid-stair.

"Angela," Alvin Moore called out. He was wiping his hands on a large drying dish towel as he leaned against the right side of the case opening between the kitchen and the living room, his legs crossed at the ankles. Her father's tall broad shouldered body was casually dressed in jeans, grey sweat shirt and white sneaks. He looked relaxed and contented. A fact his daughter noted with blazing hot resentment.

"Wash up for dinner."

Although she'd come down the stairs, she didn't look at him, her gaze downcast.

"I'm not hungry," was her sullen response.

She heard an audible in drawn breath. "You have to eat, Angela. Skipping meals isn't good for you."

"What do you care about what's good for me?"

Alvin Moore uncrossed his ankles and shouldered himself upright.

"Excuse me, young lady?" He tossed the towel behind him into the kitchen, uncaring of where it landed as he approached her. His face expressed his displeasure. "I don't think I heard you right."

She looked up at him then. "I respectfully ask to be excused from dinner," she said tonelessly. Her body pivoted toward the stairs at her back.

"Permission denied, dammit! You will eat dinner with me," her father ordered her. "I'm tired of your attitude. Skipping meals and giving me the silent treatment aren't going to change my mind about that boy."

She paused in mid-flight with her hand tense on the banner, her face aligned over her shoulder. The onyx gaze leveled at Alvin Moore held a look of disparagement in them.

"Do you think I don't know why you're doing this, Dad? This isn't about Shawn at all. It's about her!" she spat, her voice rising. Controlled fury brought on by the last couple of weeks' frustration, unhappiness and uncertainty laced its tone as she went on, "_All_ of this is about my _damn_ mother!"

Alvin's thick lips tightened. "You better watch your mouth, little girl!" he hollered.

Angela left the foot of the stairs and stormed over to him confrontationally. She dropped her book bad onto the console table behind the sofa on her way over to him. Small hands borrowed underneath the opening of her coat to rest on her hips. She threw her head back, her fiery and hostile brown orbs meeting equally heated ones.

"Why? What else are you going to do to me, Dad? What else do I have to lose?" she asked undaunted. "You've sent the man I love away and are having me watched by the one I don't want and never will all because you're afraid of history repeating itself." She drew herself up and took a deep breath. "Well, I'm not my mother. I'm not going to throw away my dreams and goals," she saw her father wince, "just because I'm in love and then regret it later. Why won't you trust me?"

Alvin Moore stared at his irate daughter before grabbing his head in a gesture of frustration. He squeezed his eyes shut against Angela's embittered glare.

"And why can't you believe that I know what's best for you?" he countered wearily.

"_Because you're not thinking about me, Dad_!" She stomped her foot indicating her own frustration with the situation. "I'm not stupid! It took me a minute to figure it out, but I'm certain now that you're doing this because of Mom! This is about _you_ and _my mother_. You're drawing parallels between you and Mom and me and Shawn that don't exist. Maybe you've even come to think that you're doing him a favor because like mother, like daughter," she sneered, throwing up her hands, "because I'll leave him for greener pastures or to find myself. But I'm not gonna need greener pastures—in the form of some rich guy to rescue me—and I won't need to find out who I really am because I'm. not. my. mother! I'm going to succeed in life with my goals in tact. And unlike you, Shawn supports me one hundred percent. You think he's gonna try to hold me back like you did Mom, but he's not! Shawn's not intimidated by my ambition."

Silence awkwardly settled itself heavily over every inch of the room and its combatants. Alvin Moore's lips twisted and his face seemed as though it was etched in steel, its lines hard and unyielding. The only sign he gave of the disquiet he was feeling was the audible swallowing of the lump in his throat.

He hadn't known until just then that Angeline had talked to their daughter about them, about giving up college to follow him around the world. How else could she have known that he'd discouraged his wife from continuing her education after Angela was born? That he'd been afraid she'd outgrow him, and he'd lose her. That he'd always been afraid of losing the bright light that had been his high school sweetheart, the girl he'd known he wanted to spend the rest of his life with to her high intelligence, thirst for knowledge and…her ambition.

Pre-marital sex, an unplanned pregnancy, and a hasty marriage later, Alvin had joined the army to provide for his teenaged bride and forth coming child. Still, none of that been enough to stop the fulfillment of his fears. It had only served to postpone the inevitable. After thirteen years of marriage, Angeline, frustrated and miserable, had left her family to find herself, to pursue lost dreams, long buried under the rubble of her unhappy marriage, but not completely forgotten. Never forgotten, just postponed, and festering below the surface like an unhealed sore.

She'd left Angela with him because she didn't want to uproot her and take from Alvin for whom their daughter was the only thing he'd have left by which to remember her. Angela was the only thing that had justified or had made any sense of their life together. Yet in spite of all the promises she'd made her pre-teen daughter, neither Angela or Alvin had heard from her in the five years since the divorce had become final, and she announced, via a phone call, her re-marriage to a wealthy businessman.

With these thoughts swirling around in his head, Alvin moved to stand in front of Angela, looking down into her angry visage from his advanced height. His anger drained from him, leaving behind only sadness and exhaustion.

"I've made mistakes; that's true," he conceded, slowly, the sadness evident in his voice, "but when you're older you'll understand—"

"I don't need to be older," she cut in aggressively. "I understand perfectly right now."

"Angela—" he beseeched her. He extended a hand but when she refused to take it, he let it drop to his side.

She shook her head. "No, Dad. You're ruining my life because of the mess you and Mom made of your relationship." She paused but her father's grimace didn't stop her from continuing. "I may not be able to see Shawn, but I still love him. _Him_, Dad! So you can stop sicking Ted on me. I'm not gonna date him."

Alvin crossed his beefy arms at this show of defiance. "Well, that's too bad, Angela, because he's the only way you'll get to the Prom next week." Angela's eyes widened. "You're not going stag with Topanga. I've arranged it all right down to the limousine and your corsage.

As she gaped at him, he strode across the expansive living room floor. "Since you're not hungry and neither am I anymore, I'm going upstairs to work," he said as he placed one foot on the bottom step of the stairs. "I'll be in my office if you decide you want to talk about all of this in a rational manner."

She stood there alone, stunned by this additional piece of outrageousness. Of all the interfering, manipulative control freaks, her father had to be the reigning king, she fumed.

This new piece of meddling with Ted as her date, meant that she wouldn't even be able to dance or spend any meaningful time with Shawn, a circumstance she was certain her father had cooked this up to ensure. Soon, she was trembling with rage, hurt and all the loneliness she'd locked away since her mother's abandonment. To her, her mother had left her just as surely as she'd left her father in spite of her assurances otherwise, because once free of him, she'd never looked back. The estrangement with Shawn, the only person she'd let get that close to her other than her father since that time, had dredge up those feelings she'd suppressed, bringing them close to the surface. Now, they all converged on her with a vengeance.

After a few more moments had passed, she spun around and ran up the stairs, slamming her door and locking it. She stood with her back pressed up against as tears poured from her eyes. Angry tears of hate which lent added sparkle to eyes that were already glinting with determination and the rudiments of an idea. Her father thought he was so clever, this same man who'd help to drive his own wife away. This stubborn man whose refusal to see what was before his eyes then and now who was causing so much unnecessary heartache.

She'd show him. Angela dashed away her angry tears and pushed away from the door to make her preparations. She ruthlessly suppressed the pang of conscious concerning what she was going to do, consoling herself with the knowledge that her father wouldn't expect anything less of her. After all, as far as he was concerned, she was her mother's daughter.

~*~

Although it was only a little after nine o'clock on a Thursday night, Shawn lay in bed, his hands behind his head as he stared up at the ceiling, a circle of light from his bedside lamp turning the expanse of white into a cone of gold just above his head. Sinister shadows were thrown into stark relief in the corners, setting a somber quality that matched his melancholy mood.

He'd had a hard tense day at school. Surprisingly, the difficulty hadn't stemmed in anyway from academics. For once, he'd felt really good about the finals he'd taken that week.

No, his main problem lay with his personal life and Angela. He could feel her eyes following, hurt and questioning whenever they were in proximity to each other. He groaned as he remembered her face when she'd asked him once again if they couldn't at least meet at Topanga's or somewhere they could be alone for just a little while, and he'd told her no. Then when he'd hurried away because the urge to throw caution to the winds and comfort her was too strong he could feel her despondency coming behind him in a tidal wave.

He'd realized tardily that in spite of their situation or maybe because of it that she was being to think that he was fooling around with other girls. Something he hadn't even considered much less done. His mind was filled with Angela nearly twenty-four seven. She was irreplaceable. No other girl had a chance. But that didn't stop them from ignoring his rebuffs, which had progressed from subtle to overt, with their blatant and constant overtures. With the constant flood of girls in his orbit, he knew that to a casual spectator it seemed like he was always with a different girl except when he was in class. And Angela's studied gaze was nowhere near casual. Her accusing looks weren't helping him cope well or helping him stick to his plan. If something didn't change soon, he was going to lose his mind.

Between Ted's spying, Angela's growing jealousy and these brazen girls' unwillingness to leave him alone, the last few weeks of his senior year at John Adams High would forever be remembered as some of the worst of his life. Angela meant everything to him and her unhappiness more so than his own was killing him. But he had to be strong or forfeit their plan of going to college together. The possibility of their being together in the very near future was the only thing keeping him strong. That and a nightly lecture—thinly veiled as a pep talk—from Jack, that is.

Finally, after what seemed like hours of going around in circles with his thoughts, sleep began to over take Shawn, his active brain so exhausted that it willingly shut down for the duration of the night. Within minutes, he was asleep and in the grip of a very vivid dream in which Angela was longer mad at him but was whispering her love in his ear, pressing her soft lips to his in apology for being jealous. Her hands reinforced her words, traveling over his chest, running down over his flat abdomen and eventually plunging under the elastic waist band of his shorts to caress and tease him into hardness.

Reciprocally, his hands were seeking her body, the warm flesh that he'd so long denied himself. They roamed up her silky thighs, over the curve of her hips and cupping the tender, rounded flesh of her supple ass. He moaned and gripped it harder. Tender kisses were being placed on his lips and then a warm tongue slid into his mouth causing him to moan louder with pleasure as he returned the sweet massage with his own tongue. It felt so good, and he could feel himself growing and hardening even more.

Consciousness returned slowly as breathless moans, low and guttural, penetrated the veil of slumber. Shawn's heavy lids lifted when the moans grew louder and hoarse panting sounded above his head. He tilted them upwards, saw Angela with her neck arched into his pillow, her lips parted as kittenish mewls escaped them, felt his body on top of her pliant one, and then belatedly he realized that his mouth was full of chocolate nipple and areola. He pulled his lips away and a small pop sounded as it slid from his mouth. He recoiled in shock.

"_Ahhhh_!" he howled and flipped off his bed as he rolled off of her in his haste to get away. Disoriented by sleepiness and confusion, he haphazardly scrambled to his feet and stumbled over to the wall. With his back pressed tightly against the cold surface, he blinked rapidly, trying to clear his hazy vision and even foggier mind, and stared at Angela. She was naked except for a lacy red babydoll that covered one breast while the other side was bunched under the cocoa-hued orb, and a pair of lacy red boy shorts. Black high heeled sandals covered her feet. Where the hell had she gotten those things, his mind screamed illogically even as his heart beat so hard in his chest that it hurt. It thundered in his ears with the rhythmic fury of a tom tom. His questing lungs compelled him to gulp the air in a desperate effort to force feed breath into them.

"Wha-how did you get in here?" He knuckled his eyes still unable to completely believe that she was really there and that this was no dream. In fact, it was a nightmare. He glanced around hastily and saw that he was still in his room with a flood of relief. Not that it mattered. Her father was going to kill him!

Removing her babydoll completely, Angela swung her legs over the side of his bed and began to sashay over to him, he looked down at himself and was somewhat relieve to his see that was at least was still clothed in his boxers and crew necked tee shirt.

"A-Angela, what do you think you're d-doing?"

"Well, to answer your first question," she began as she tilted her head, still in pursuit mode. "Eric let me in. I told him that it was an emergency."

A decidedly predatory gleam showed in her dark eyes as she drew nearer. Shawn suddenly knew how defenseless prey felt. He tried to burrow deeper into the wall as she continued her slow approach. Her legs seemed a mile long in black high heeled sandals and gartered black nylons. He wanted to avert his eyes elsewhere, but they wouldn't cooperate. They rebelliously drank in the tantalizing sights even as he protested.

"B-Baby, this is a very bad idea." Catastrophically bad, he thought as beads of perspiration sprang up on his face and arms, especially since he hadn't deflated that much in spite of the initial shock. His body was still humming with longing, aching for the taste of pleasures hinted at and so ruthlessly snatched away.

"Don't come any closer," Shawn pleaded with her weakly.

"Don't you want me?" Angela purred coquettishly. Knowing the answer, she didn't even bother to look down.

He took a steadying breath but didn't reply. Knowing that the question was rhetorical—it had to be—he kept trying to make himself apart of the wall.

"I'm not going to let my Dad ruin us, Shawn. He'll see that he can't control my life." An edge had entered her voice, yet she sensuously pressed herself against him. Her lips were open on his neck, soft and nibbling while her small hands began a slow descent down his stomach to their target.

Shit! Shawn thought nervously, she obviously didn't understand. He could continue where he'd left off and do all the things to her that he'd been dreaming of for months, but that would be all they'd have. And then the most wonderful girl he'd ever known would be shipped across the country and out of his reach perhaps forever. He couldn't let that happen. He couldn't lose another person he truly loved and who loved him. He simply had to avert that disaster. The thought of losing Angela permanently gave Shawn the strength he needed to ignore the throbbing in his loins screaming at him to get his release, rejecting everything his head was insisting he do.

Pealing her off of him, Shawn grabbed her arm and dragged her over to where her bra lay on the bed. Behind him, Angela struggled, eventually managing to jerk her arm from his clasp.

"I'm not a child, Shawn," she protested angrily, "and I won't let you treat me like I am anymore than I'll let my father treat me like one."

"We're not doing this, Angela," he said firmly. As he picked up the babydoll, he spied her grey suede coat on the floor next to the bed. He scooped it up and threw it around her.

She contrarily tossed it off.

On. Off. On. Off. On. Off.

Shawn was so frustrated that he slammed the coat to the floor.

"Stop doing that!" he shouted causing Angela to jump. "Dammit, Angela! This isn't helping!"

He was fuming. His nerves were shredded at this point. The whole situation seemed surreal, but he was trying this best not to give in to his carnal nature. His _very_ strong carnal nature.

Angela was staring at him, tears welling up in her eyes, blurring her vision. Her arms crept up to cover her chest as if suddenly feeling exposed. She turned her back to him, her lip caught between her teeth as she tried to steady its trembling.

Taking advantage of her surprise, he quickly picked up the coat and draped it over her shoulder, letting his hands rest on top of the coat.

"Angela—"

"I'm so embarrassed," she sniffed.

"You shouldn't be. There's nothing to be embarrassed about. You're so beautiful, baby."

She shook her head and released a shaky breath. "Then why are you rejecting me, Shawn?" Her voice wobbled unsteadily. "You've wanted this for months."

Shawn groaned and tightened his grip on her shoulders and pulled her to his chest.

"I know what I wanted, Angela, and I'm not rejecting _you_, baby," he repeated. "I couldn't."

"Then if that's true, then what is it?" He could feel some of her body's stiffness relax under his hands. She allowed herself to sink back onto his chest as she turned her head to look over her shoulder at him.

"I'm doing this for us, Angela! Our having sex isn't going to exactly help our case with your Dad, honey," he murmured against her ear. "You've got to go back home tonight. As soon as possible."

"No, I want to stay here with you. I-I want us to be together."

Shawn squeezed his eyes shut and sighed. "I want us to be together, too, baby. In every sense of the word," he stressed, "when the time is right. This isn't the time." He turned her to face him. "I don't want to be with you for any other reason then that it's right, and it's what we both want."

"Then this is the time, Shawn," she cooed, leaning into him slightly, her look earnest. "I'm here for no other reason. I want you. It's as simple as that."

He stared down into her deep brown eyes. He thought he had never seen a girl with prettier eyes than Angela. It wasn't just the color, the richness, but the intelligence and the spectrum of emotions that showed within their depths. He could see clear through them into her heart as easily as he could see through a transparent pane of glass. They were truly the windows to her soul. And unbeknownst to their owner, they were speaking to him now.

"Baby, I wish I could believe that, but I don't," he said slowly.

Angela opened her mouth.

"Did you have a fight with your father?" Shawn asked before she could speak, his head cocked to the side. "Did he do something else that you haven't told me about?" His blue eyes probed hers almost as if silently willing her to be honest with him.

She opened her mouth to lie, but it died on her lips. In other circumstances, she'd have been thrilled at this evidence of their closeness and how in tune they were to one another. How easily he could read her because he'd invested the time to get to know her, her moods and her expressions. But at that moment, it was an annoying inconvenience—a threat to her plans.

"We may have had…words," she equivocated with what she hoped was a nonchalant shrug of her shoulders, "but that's nothing new here lately." Angela pushed away from him a little. Her long lashes came down to veil her expressive eyes, but it was too late; they'd already betrayed her.

Shawn sighed. He had his answer. His right hand raked his thick chestnut brown hair. He didn't quite have the guts to tell her what he knew had to be done. Lying and deception weren't going to produce anything but more trouble. He was taking a gamble, a huge risk, but he had to see the course he'd set play out. He had to see it through even if Angela didn't understand and possibly hated him for it in the short term, he reminded himself. He was playing for bigger stakes, and one day, hopefully sooner rather than later, she'd understand that and acknowledge the wisdom of his decision. Besides, he had a bad feeling about tonight's escapade: the one that always came before the swift kick in his teeth. His sense of impending disaster was unerring, and so he had to do what he had to do.

He looked down into her trustful eyes. His eyes effortlessly slid down to her breasts before hurriedly rising to her face. He gently pulled the coat's lapels together.

"Did you bring any other clothes with you?" He'd looked around but didn't see any other articles of clothing except a few of his own strewn around the room in strategic places.

Angela shook her head. "No, I came in just this. I thought it would help me not to lose my nerve, and it did."

"Okay," Shawn breathed with resignation. He left go of the coat, and giving her a wide berth, went around her to get to his dresser from which he removed an oversized Phillies baseball jersey. He ducked into his closet before walking back to her with blue jeans, a brown belt and flip flops all of which he handed to her along with the jersey.

"Baby, I want you to get dressed," he told her levelly. "I'll be back in a bit."

His demeanor calm on the outside, he laid a sweet kiss on her brow and left her alone, yet his heart was sinking and he struggled with fear as the vague inkling that had encouraged his question solidified into certainty as he closed his bedroom door. Sergeant Moore must have upped the ante in his quest to keep them apart.

Majorly frustrated, Shawn grabbed his head and paced in a small circle in the living room, his eyes deliberately avoiding the black cordless phone that sat so inoffensively in its base. Her father had to have done something so egregious that it caused Angela to act out. She knew as well as he did that she wasn't ready for a sexual relationship, especially given their current problems with her father. Shawn was sure that whatever Sergeant Moore had done had driven Angela to this: a wholly misguided attempt at a nocturnal seduction.

And as tempted as he'd been, Shawn wasn't ready for this side of their relationship either. Not like this, anyway. He wanted their first time to be about their love and not about Angela's revenge on her father. He couldn't allow one of the most important events of their lives and their relationship to be reduced to a petty middle finger to her overbearing parent. So even though he hated what he was about to do so, he knew he had no other recourse. He had to make the call and hope that Angela would understand.

Before he could change his mind, Shawn grabbed the black receiver, punched in the numbers, held the rectangular antennaed object to his ear and let it ring.

~*~

Alvin Moore couldn't sleep. He hated the way he and Angela had left things earlier, so he left his bed and went to her door. He wouldn't wake her but he needed to see her sweet face, peaceful and calm. He hadn't seen her that way since this whole business with Hunter had started.

Avoiding the weak spots that creaked in the hallway floor, he gingerly made his way to her room, flicking light switch to the sconce located across from her door, and opened her door. A cone of light was cast across her bed. Alvin smiled to see his daughter resting peacefully, after the tempest of their argument. He moved closer to pull down the cover she had drawn over her head so that he could see her face. The face that reminded him of his wife but instead he looked down on the head of her life sized teddy bear, its black button eyes staring up at him.

His smile evaporated and he yanked the covers back, exposing the rest of the large stuffed animal. After a stunned moment or two, Alvin strode back to his room, throwing on clothes in a haphazard manner. He took the stairs two at a time until he reached the bottom. He flicked the switch on the wall opposite the stairs, and the living room was flooded with light. Then striding over to the console table, he grabbed his keys from it and turned to leave when he realized that he didn't know where Hunter lived. That was where his missing daughter was, of that he had no doubt. His mouth tightened angrily until it occurred to him that he could get his address from the phone listings. He was reaching under the console to the ledge underneath where the latest phone book lay nestled between two coffee table books and a couple of thick fashion magazines when the phone rang.

Alvin almost ignored it, but something told him to answer. Pushing his impatience aside, he picked up and got the second shock of the night.

~*~

Shawn entered his bedroom to find Angela sleeping in the spot where he'd lain earlier. He moved to stand near her, looking down into her peaceful sweet face with a mixture of relief and regret. He'd come to tell her what he'd done. Although he could use her slumber as a legitimate excuse to delay the explanation, he stood conflicted and torn.

He watched her greedily, his light blue eyes darkening with emotion as they swept over her precious form. Her legs were bent at the knees in a modified fetal position. Her long eyelashes fanned down, almost giving the impression of dark half circles under her eyes. With her lips slightly parted, her left hand was positioned beneath one cheek while the other trailed over the side of the bed. He placed her hand on the bed and sat down beside her. The mattress sank with his weight, but she didn't awaken. No, that would have been too easy. The decision would have been made for him. This way he'd have to do it himself and fully accept the consequences of his actions.

So he sucked in a deep breath, mustered up his courage, and gently leaned forward to kiss her awake. He knew that he was breaking his own prohibition on displays of physical affection between them, but he felt that he owed himself something. He was due just this little bit of heaven before going back into his own private hell of loneliness and insecurity.

Angela's mouth moved against his as she stirred and slowly awakened, her eyes opening just as he lifted his head. His lips curved into a tender smile.

"Hey, sleepyhead."

She looked confused for a moment, but memory quickly returned bringing with it an answering smile.

"Hey."

He took the hand he'd put on the bed a mere minutes ago, caressing it her palm with his thumb before jumping into the fray. He didn't have long before the explanation for his actions would be rendered moot. But before he could come out and say it, Angela rushed into speech.

"I know you want me to leave, Shawn," she confessed. "You don't have to say it. I—I just…I don't want to leave like this." She looked down at her hand clasped within his, hoping against hope that he'd changed his mind and wanted her to stay.

Her statement distracted him as he thought of something else that hadn't been addressed. He looked at her through slightly narrowed eyes.

"Did you get the bus here?" Although he was trying to be gentle and not upset her anymore than she already was while maintaining the delicate balance between them, he feared her reply just might send him over the edge again. Angela traveling on public transportation with only a coat between her half-naked and public exposure to the pervs that undoubtedly populated it at night wasn't something he could think about with any equanimity. Unconsciously, he held his breath.

Thankfully, Angela shook her head, sending her dusky ringlets into motion while raising herself on one elbow.

"I had to talk to someone, and so I called Topanga to let her know what I was going to do. She told me if I didn't let her bring me, she'd tell my Dad." She shrugged, adding, "I couldn't have her do that, so I came with her."

Shawn sighed with relief. Thank God for small mercies, he thought as he breathed again, and Topanga. Although she was still messing with his best friend's head bad, he now owed her one.

Nodding, and with that out of the way, he swallowed and tried to get the conversation back on track. "Honey, I-I have something to tell you, but I want you to promise that you won't get mad."

His grip on her hand tightened, and Angela looked up from the bundle of hands to his face warily.

"Okay, here goes," Shawn croaked from between dry lips. The inside of his mouth was dry, too. "You have to go home."

Before he could get the rest of what he'd been going to say out, she cut him off.

Angela sighed, disappointed that he still wanted her to leave. But she tried to push it aside, and put a good face on it.

"I can't get Topanga mixed up in this any further, Shawn. Besides, she's already gone to bed. How am I supposed to get home?" A hopeful expression adorned her face. "Do you think Jack might loan you his car so you could drop me off? Then I could just sneak into the house without my Dad being any the wiser."

"Jack's on a date, and he doesn't have classes until late tomorrow afternoon," Shawn explained automatically. "From past knowledge, I'd say it's going to be really late by the time he gets in. It's after twelve o'clock now."

"Then how about Eric's—"

"Angela," he cut in, raising his voice a bit to be heard over hers, "…just…just be quiet. Please," he said agitatedly. He cleared his throat. "I-I called your Dad. He'll p-probably be here in a—in a few minutes."

It took a few seconds for her to process his words as Angela just stared at him when she suddenly catapulted up from the bed, almost knocking Shawn to the floor in her haste, as though she'd been shot out of a cannon.

"Oh my God!" Two brown hands flew to her hot face. "Oh my God!" she exclaimed.

"Now, baby, don't get upset!" he pleaded.

She was gazing at him with wrathfully incredulity. "Shawn, how _could_ you?" she yelled at him. "How could you do that? I trusted you!"

"Angela…baby, calm down," he urged, placing his hands on her arms. He began chaffing them in a manner designed to sooth. "I didn't have any other choice."

"What?" she screeched, shaking him off. Her hands made their way to her hips. "How can you _say_ that? How can you explain going behind my back like that?"

"It-It was the right thing to do. I feel it in my gut."

"I'd like you to feel something else in your gut, Shawn Patrick Hunter! First, you reject me and make me feel like a complete loser, and then you rat me out to my Dad? _Unbelievable_!" his girlfriend said from between clenched white teeth.

"Baby...honey, he already knew you were gone," he ventured, his tone wheedling as he attempted to pacify her. "I caught him just as he was about to come storming over here."

Angela ignored him. She shouldered past him, grabbed her coat from the foot of the bed and kept going until she was at the door.

"C'mon Angela! Don't be like this!" Shawn said, going after her.

Deaf to his pleas, she threw the door open so violently that it banged against the wall as she stomped away.

Shawn followed her out, but before he could even step off the last stair, the doorbell rang signalling the arrival of her father and effectively ending any chance he had of making headway with his seething girlfriend.

As he passed her, he heard a muffled sob or maybe it was a growl, but she had her back to him facing the couch, so he couldn't be sure since he couldn't see her face. It was probably for the best. Feeling guilty, he trudged over to the door. Opening it, just as he'd expected, Angela's father, in sneakers, blue jeans and a white tee shirt with a dark brown trench coat worn rather haphazardly, stood on the other side of the threshold.

"I'm here for my daughter," Alvin announced shortly.

Unenthusiastically, Shawn stepped back and waved him inside.

Alvin saw Angela standing with her back to them, and crossed the room to her, taking the closest hand that was held to her face in his. He gazed down into her miserable, tear stained face and bit back the chastisement he'd been about to deliver.

"We're going to talk about this at home, Angela." He looked her over. "Do you have all your things?"

Angela nodded and turned to go with her father. As they passed by Shawn who was still at the door, she didn't look at him or say anything.

"Angela, I'm sorry. I love you."

She stopped just over the threshold but didn't turn around. "I hate you, Shawn. Don't ever speak to me again." She left her father to go stand by the elevator.

Alvin Moore looked at his daughter's rigid form and turned back to Shawn. He looked down at the boy who was leaning against the doorjamb with his blue eyes on Angela. They were sorrowful and full of longing.

He started to say something but deciding against it went to join Angela, shaking his head. Shawn continued to watch father and daughter stand side by side apparently in one accord in their hate for him now until the elevator opened and both got on. Sighing heavily, he pushed away from the side of the casement, stepping back inside before closing and locking it. He turned off the lights and headed for his room.

Once there, Shawn threw himself down on the bed. The faint scent of Angela's perfume rose up to tantalize his nostrils. He turned his head into his pillow where the fragrance was even stronger. Sleep eluding him, Shawn lay awake wondering, not for the first time, where this mess with Angela was going to end and if he was still going to have his sanity or Angela when the dust finally settled.

* * *

**A/N:** Next chapter - Shawn goes to confront Angela and finds her with Ted. Words said in the heat of anger send him off in a jealous rage. Meanwhile, her friends' troubles have given Topanga food for thought concerning a future for her and Cory.


	7. Chapter 7

_Chapter Seven_

The next day at school, Shawn spied Angela during their lunch period a few feet away from the senior lounge area. His lips tightened with annoyance because she wasn't alone. Ted Brazelton standing next to her, too close in Shawn's opinion, his head bowed as he leaned in to hear what Angela was saying. And to make matters worse, as he drew nearer, his eyes encountered Minkus off to the left, smirking at his discomfort. He mouthed, "See, I told you so," before running off as Shawn made a knee jerk move in his direction.

He watched the little weasel for a moment, but knowing that he had heartier fish to fry, he swung back around and walked over to Angela and her obnoxious companion.

"Angela, can I talk to you a minute?" he asked quickly, rushing up to them.

"Did you hear someone say something, Ted?" Angela looked around pretending not to see Shawn.

Amused, Ted grinned smugly while Shawn fumed.

The guy didn't know how close he was to losing his teeth, Shawn thought angrily. "Angela, I need to talk to you. Now!" he growled through gritted teeth.

"Hey, Hunter, don't talk to her like that," the football jock admonished him harshly.

Already pissed and jealous, Shawn got in his face. "Don't tell me how to talk to Angela." He moved his legs apart and took a more aggressive stance. He was close enough that the elbow he was going to smash into the side of Ted's jaw would drop him immediately. "She's _my_ girlfriend, asshole."

"Yeah, well, Sergeant Moore doesn't quite see it that way, white boy," Ted asked insolently. "And apparently neither does Angela."

Anticipating Shawn, Angela hastily inserted herself in between them. Ted stepped back to make room for her while Shawn stood his ground. He suppressed a groan as her butt cheeks brushed against his groin.

Angela froze a moment, her eyes widening. She opened her mouth but seemed to have forgotten what she wanted to say. Then recovering with difficulty, she turned to the side, and with a hand braced against each chest, pushed them further apart. "Do you two have to make a scene every time you see each other?" Angela asked sharply. She turned to Ted. "And Ted, I can take care of myself."

Ted's face fell. "I was just trying to help."

Angela's sternness softened somewhat. "I know, Ted, but really, I can handle Shawn." She threw an arch glance Shawn's way to see how he was handling that claim. His expression was undecipherable and gave away nothing. After a moment's pause as she held Shawn's eyes with her own, she said to Ted, "I need to talk to Shawn. Alone." Her tone was firm, indicating that there was no room for negotiation.

Defeated, Ted nodded, and with a final acrimonious glare at his rival, he reluctantly left them alone.

"Speak," Angela commanded just like she would a dog. She went over to her locker to get her books as Shawn trailed behind her. "You have one minute."

Shawn ran an impatient hand through his hair. "What could I possibly say to you in one minute to make you see that I had no choice last night, Angela?" he demanded as he stood behind her.

"You have forty-five seconds left." She opened her locker and extracted the two books she'd need for her next two classes. They had to turn them in today as today was the last official day of class. "I suggest that you try really hard Shawn," she added, slamming her locker shut, and pivoting to fix her eyes at a point somewhere beyond his shoulder, an exaggerated look of boredom on her pretty face.

"Alright." He folded his arms. "I didn't make love to you the other night because you weren't ready. You were only trying to get back at your Dad. I love you too much to take advantage of you like that. As much as I wanted you, I just couldn't do it, Angela." A note of desperation crept into his voice as her expression remained unchanged. "Can't you try to understand?"

Angela transferred flashing dark eyes to his face. "Oh, I understand alright. What's her name, Shawn?" she asked, her tone frigid.

Taken aback, Shawn's eyebrows shot up.

"Oh, don't look so surprised. You've been trying to get me into bed for months and then out of the blue you have these new found 'scruples'. What I want to know is is she blonde like all your other girlfriends, except me obviously," she said with a tight little smile, and added conversationally, "or have you continued to broaden your horizons?"

Shawn pressed his lips together, feeling a wave of frustration wash over him. He hadn't looked at another girl in over six months, was even at that moment was fighting his lower nature as she glared at him and accused him of cheating. She was all ice and haughtiness all he wanted to do was drape himself over her and melt her down into a warm puddle of caramel. But here she was assuming that he was cheating or was contemplating cheating just because he was trying to do his best for her. Because he was trying to look out for her best interest at the expense of his sanity and his physical well-being. He'd never been so hemmed up by a girl in all his eighteen years, and he'd started young.

The list of things that Shawn Hunter didn't do extended to catering to parents and especially father's of the girls he dated. Now here he was, caught in the middle this tug o' war between the two of them: father and daughter, with the end result being both hating his guts. The irony of the situation would have been amusing if it had involved someone else. But it wasn't someone else's problem. It was his and his life, and right now the girl he loved was looking at him like she hated him. There was nothing amusing about that.

Angela's heart sank when he didn't say anything. She'd just been fishing, but his silence made his innocence doubtful. Why else would he just stand there without denying it?

"So I guess it's true then."

Shawn emerged from his musings. "Angela, there's no one else," he replied at last. "I really can't believe you think so badly of me."

Angela's eyes fell. But she just held onto her books, her arms wrapped around them holding them against her chest in an unconsciously defensive manner. She didn't know what to say. She was confused, hurt, jealous and about to graduate from high school with the one of the most important relationships she'd ever had in jeopardy.

Shawn threw up his hands.

"Oh, okay, so now you're giving me the silent treatment again?"

"No, I just thought I'd take a page from your book, Shawn." Storm clouds of anger formed in the depths of her eyes. "I know how much you love doing exactly what my father wants."

Shawn passed a hand over his mouth. "Angela—"

"The fact remains that you've been after me to sleep with you for weeks and then when I say that I'm ready, you bail on me," she accused him, goaded by the remembrance of his callousness. "You called my father like I was some stupid kid you just couldn't wait to be rid of."

"I didn't bail on you, Angela. I didn't reject you. And I didn't call your father because I didn't want you, dammit," he insisted. A bit of the irritation he was feeling seeped through. "I'm sure he already told you that he knew you'd snuck out of the house before I called. But that doesn't matter. What does matter is that you weren't—_aren't_ ready. You know you only wanted to do it to get back at your father. Why won't you just admit it?" He shook his head stubbornly. "Whether you do or not, I'm not going to keep apologizing for doing the right thing."

"Is that so? You seem to be just a-a fount of wisdom these days," Angela stated bitterly. "Yet if I remember correctly, you had me pinned up against a wall with your tongue down my throat at Ted's party a month ago." She tilted her head. "But maybe that was just about one upping Ted. Maybe you don't love me as much as you said you did," she choked out, "because if you did, you would have made love to me and shown my father—

"That I can't be trusted to keep my word, so he can feel justified in sending you thousands of miles away for college—like to Stanford where dear old Teddy boy is going." Shawn involuntarily moved a little closer to her, instinctively responding to the wobble he'd heard in her voice. Realizing that he couldn't comfort her like he wanted to in a hall full of people, he ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "Come on, Angela. Think!" he implored her urgently.

Angela bit her lip. She hadn't thought her plan out that far, or considered the repercussions. Yet Shawn's logic was irrationally having the opposite effect on her. Since when did Shawn think anything out? He was just making excuses. Her deepest fears rose to the forefront. Six months ago, Shawn had been a bonafide player, and now after weeks of concentrated effort to get her into bed, he'd suddenly gone all moral and ethical on her. The real reason for his rejection although painful was apparent. He'd obviously set his eyes on someone else during the interim since her father had broken them up.

"Well, maybe Teddy boy won't have your scruples if I give him the same chance to be with me," she threw at him rashly.

Shawn's gaze sharpened and narrowed at the same time. "_What did you just say to me_?" he asked with a dangerous and chilling softness in his voice.

Under the icy blast of his stare, Angela's heart began to beat at a wildly accelerated rate. Thoroughly intimidated, she hedged, her eyes falling from his. "I…just said that I thought that—that if some other guy had had the same opportunity…was able to be with me—"

"_Huh uh_." Shawn folded his arms and stepped closer. Their bodies were mere inches from each other. His stare was now a full-on glare as he looked down at her. "_That_ is _not_ what you said, Angela," he spat furiously.

Angela's hurt feelings erupted into a rare show of temper. The careless words she'd uttered a minute earlier bubbled up in her throat, cascading from her lips once again.

"I _said_ that maybe Ted wouldn't have as many _scruples_ as you if I gave _him_ a chance to be with me." she snapped with an equal show of anger. The jealousy that had been eating away at her for weeks overcame all reason and tact. She returned his glare defiantly, unwilling to let him see just how much his rejection the other night had wounded her.

The hush that followed seemed almost surreal. The bustling and buzzing of the hall's occupants went on but was muted as thought from a long distance away. An eerie quiet cocooned the atmosphere around Shawn and Angela like an embryo in its mother's womb. Shawn's eyes never once wavered from hers. Twin cerulean lasers bored into her brown orbs.

Angela glowered back at him, her entire attitude a challenge even as she willed her lower lip not to tremble.

"_That's_ what I _thought_ you said," he eventually uttered in clipped tones, each word coated with a layer of ice. He regarded her a moment longer before unfolding his arms as he turned on his heel and stalked off, leaving Angela to follow him with blurry vision due to the tears that had instantly filled her eyes. With a stricken look on her face, she choked back a soft sob.

Topanga came over to stand next to her. She'd seen the whole thing, but hadn't been able to hear what they'd been saying. "What happened, Ange? Shawn looks like he wants to kill somebody."

Angela swallowed the melon sized lump obstructing her throat with difficulty and desperately fought to blink back the tears.

"I-I—he…we h-had a fight," she finally replied, her voice none too steady. She clutched her books to her chest protectively; her chin pressed down on the top of them so hard that one's edges dug into her skin.

Topanga snorted softly. "Well, I could see that." Her eyes left Angela for Shawn's form as the crowded corridor began shrouding his body from sight. "But I don't think I've ever seen Shawn like that before. The look on his face was…_scary_." She turned back to Angela, scrutinizing her friend curiously. "What did you say to make him react like that?"

"Topanga, I-I told you we had a fight," she said evasively. "A r-really bad one, okay?"

Topanga refused to be put off. She came around one side of Angela and grabbed her by the shoulders. "Angela, what did you say to Shawn to make him stalk off like that?" she demanded.

Angela avoided the probing blue eyes. "I said…I said…," she wet her lips. The words she'd blurted out so boldly at Shawn wouldn't come forth so easily now. Nevertheless, she tried again. "We were fighting about what happened last night."

Having had the full story from Angela already, Topanga nodded. "Okay."

"Like I said, we were fighting about what had happened, and I-I told him…I told him that Ted wouldn't reject me if I—if I…"

"—if _you_…" Topanga parroted encouragingly.

Angela looked at her then in silent anguish.

A furrow appeared between the Topanga's light eyebrows for just a second before she gasped as the logical conclusion of the unfinished sentence dawned on her.

"..._if you offered to sleep with him like you did with Shawn_?" The answer, so written plainly on Angela's face, caused her to groan loudly. No wonder Shawn looked like he'd been kicked in the stomach and wanted to break somebody's neck. She squeezed her shut for an extended moment, an involuntary shudder shaking her buxom form. "You actually said that? _To Shawn_?" she gasped, her voice rising in patent horror. "_Oh Angela_!!"

The tears Angela had been fighting won. They spilled over onto her cheeks. Topanga hurriedly took her friend by the arm, carting her off to the bathroom for some privacy. Mercifully, it appeared to be empty, but she checked the stalls one by one anyway. When she was done, she went to her friend, gently pried the books from the death grip she had on them, sat them on the little bench near the door and wrapped her arms around her friend in a comforting embrace.

Angela cried on her shoulder. "I don't know what came over me. I-I'm just so angry at him." She pulled away to look at Topanga, her eyes wet and her face streaked with tears. "Ever since the night Cory got drunk, Shawn's barely come near me. He w-won't meet me anywhere so we can spend time together." She angrily dashed the tears away with her hands. "And then when I tell him I'm ready to have sex with him…when I shamelessly throw myself at him...he refuses. What kind of love is that?"

Topanga blinked at Angela, slack-jawed. "What kind of love is that?" she said blankly. "Are you kidding me? We're talking about Shawn Hunter, Angela. I didn't think he knew the meaning of the word abstinence until he met you."

Angela folded her arms. "Exactly! We're talking about Shawn. Who, I don't have to remind you, until six months ago had a new girl every two weeks," she said bitterly. "I'm not stupid, Topanga." She flopped down on the bench. "He's seeing someone else."

Topanga came over to sit beside her. She studied Angela's face for a minute and sighed. Besides Cory, Angela was one of the most stubborn people she'd ever met. Donkeys, both of them. Stubborn, hard-headed donkeys. And with Angela it was worse because she was normally so even-tempered, so logical and restrained in her behavior and thought patterns. There was only one person she knew of that could bring out this emotionally driven, reckless Angela. And that person was Shawn Patrick Hunter. 'A Titan against a Titan', she thought rather whimsically, quoting a favorite classic film of hers, _Clash of the Titans_. The title certainly fit her two strong-willed friends these days. Still, Topanga felt it was her duty…oh, hell, forget duty. Angela was her friend and so was Shawn. They deserved to be together. Were obviously made for each other. Two commitment shy, passionate people who'd fallen hard for each other in spite of sharing a relationship phobia.

Yet even knowing them as well as she did, she realized that trying to reason with someone who was crazy in love for the first time and who was under the supreme stress of being, to all intents and purposes, a star-crossed lover, kept from the guy she loved by her over-bearing father was g'oing to be something of a challenge. Hopefully not an insurmountable one, but a definite challenge nonetheless. However, Topanga was nothing if not a skillful maneuverer of people. She liked to think of herself as a sort of chess player except one who substituted the small, wooden images for life size, full blood pieces.

With this mindset, she said firmly, "I hate to keep repeating myself, but I've known Shawn a lot longer than you have, Ange. I'd say he was in pretty deep to take a pass on having sex with you. The boy's needed a hosing down since you two started going out," she pointed out dryly. "He's not with another girl, Ange. He's in love with you, and that's why he just about went ballistic out there."

Angela barely heard her. She was remembering how he'd led her on. How he'd made her think that he wanted her: kissing her and caressing her so passionately before cruelly pushing her away.

"Well, he shouldn't have pretended to want me, Topanga," Angela said peevishly. She unfurled her arms and turned her body sideways to look at the other girl. "He shouldn't have acted like he was all hot and bothered if he wasn't."

"Um, I don't want to be unnecessarily crude, or anything, but how exactly was Shawn pretending?"

Not completely comprehending her meaning, Angela tilted her head, frowning. "I don't' follow."

Topanga got up, turning around to face Angela, her arms flung wide.

"I mean, how does a guy pretend to be turned on? I would think it'd be easy to figure out. He either has a hard-on, or he doesn't." She folded her arms and stood over Angela. "Did Shawn or did Shawn not have a hard-on the night you came onto him?" asked the future attorney.

Angela averted her eyes. A tell tale rosy color appeared beneath her chocolate skin. "He may have been a little excited now that I think about it," she murmured diffidently.

Topanga bent over her. She hadn't missed the faint but noticeable tinge of red under the dark skin of her friend's cheeks. "What's '_a little'_ excited, Angela? What's that look like on a scale of one to ten? One being itty bitty and ten being ginormous." She was going to make Angela see how foolish she was being even if they had to miss the rest of their classes that day, a sacrifice that would have shocked Angela speechless if she'd have known. Topanga was nothing if not anal about her grades and attendance.

One of Topanga's favorite shoes lightly tapped the linoleum floor of the girl's bathroom

"I'm wait-_ing_," she said in sing-song. The knowing expression on her face made Angela squirm.

After staring at her helplessly, Angela jumped up, and Topanga moved out of harm's way before Angela's head could collide with her chin.

"Oh, alright, Ms. Prosecutor, it was _huge_," she said, her voice rising on the last word. She remembered enormous bulge that Shawn had ground between her legs and the way it had felt against the heart of her. A slight frisson shot down her center into her private place. "It was _humongous_. Is that what you want to hear? It was so big that it almost scared me."

"Did you see it?" Topanga asked, curiously.

Slightly embarrassed by the question, Angela shook her head as heat suffused her brown skin. "No. I was going for his boxers when he flipped off the bed." She'd neglected to mention that she'd sort of seen its outline in the murky light of the car on the night they were pulled over and didn't feel like going into just then.

"So you really wanted to have sex, and it wasn't just to get back at your father?" She eyed Angela, a speculative gleam in the blue-green eyes. "Or because you were afraid of losing Shawn?" she asked shrewdly.

"Yes…no..._maybe_." Angela dropped her face into her hands. She was ashamed of herself. Her fears weren't so much steeped in insecurity as they were in the uncertainty of their situation coupled with Shawn's seeming coldness and rejection of her overtures. She knew that she had to get it together or really risk losing Shawn on account of her own actions.

When she raised her head, she was composed once more. "I don't know. I mean, I _do_ want Shawn. I love him, and there's no one sexier. But I guess he was right about the timing being a-a little suspect." Dispirited, she let out a long breath. "And I guess _you're_ right about me being afraid that Shawn was, well, slipping away from me. It's just that he's been acting so weird…so distant—even cold," she tried to explain, frustration writ large on her face, "ever since the night Cory got drunk, and Daddy overreacted and decided to ruin my life."

Topanga ignored that last piece of tacked on dramatics. "Maybe Shawn's has a simpler reason for avoiding you," she offered. "One that doesn't involve cheating."

"What's that?"

"Maybe Shawn can't get it together around you." She shrugged. "Look, he's always been very sexual, so it must be really hard, no pun intended," she grinned wickedly, "for him. By nature, Shawn's an impulsive, do what he wants, take what he wants kind of guy. I think he's trying to cope with not getting what he wants until he can get himself under control."

Angela thought about that. "I guess that's reasonable," she commented slowly. And she preferred to believe Topanga's theory rather than the horrible alternative of him cheating with some big breasted blonde. Then as suddenly as her distress seemed to be abating, it kicked into high gear again. Her hands flew up to cover her mouth. Wide dark eyes stared out above them.

"Oh my God, Topanga, if that's true then I've been so mean to him." She winced when she thought about the taunt she'd flung at him. "He's never going to speak to me again."

"All you have to do is talk to him and apologize, Ange. Talk to Shawn and find out what's really going on with your man."

Angela nodded, her eyes clinging to Topanga's like a lifeline. She exhaled slowly, took in another deep breath and repeated the process.

Then feeling calmer, she said, "You're right. When he calms down, he'll realize that I couldn't…I wouldn't ever have sex with anyone but him," she said fiercely. "I need to find him though before he does something stupid." She chewed on her lower lip, wondering what Shawn would do. He was so sensitive. But she had to believe that he wouldn't break his promise and start drinking again. She also had to believe that he wouldn't dig out his old black book and sex up the first girl whose number he called. She pushed those unwelcome thoughts aside. Only saying, "I doubt that he hung around for his last two classes."

Topanga nodded. She very much doubted it, too. In fact, she kept her very real fears to herself, hoping against hope that Shawn wasn't going to drown his sorrows in beer and throw away the sobriety he'd worked so hard to achieve in a moment of anger. That was her only concern. Having been friends with Shawn most of her life, she couldn't see him cheating on Angela in a fit of pique. She knew how much he loved his _'purse girl'_.

"I'm sure he's heading to his apartment to sulk," she offered consolingly, and then brightened as another thought occurred to her. "He may have even gone to work."

Angela marched over to her books before heading for the door. "Topanga, I need you to turn in my books for me. Just tell my teachers that I had an emergency. I'm going to find Shawn." As she thought of him, she smiled softly. What they had was too precious to ignore, too. She just hoped that it wasn't too late, and that Shawn would forgive her.

"I can do that," Topanga said readily, agreeing to her request for help as she started after her.

But Angela suddenly stopped, her head falling back as she sighed. She slowly turned, lowering her head. Her dark gaze came to rest on Topanga who'd stopped just behind her and was regarding her curiously.

"I promised myself that I wasn't going to say anything," Angela said reluctantly, "but I can't just stand by and watch my best friend make the biggest mistake of her life any longer."

Topanga groaned internally, having an inkling of what was to come, but she didn't break the connection of their eyes.

"You know, you've been all reasonable and clear headed about my problems with Shawn and my father, so why haven't you applied any of that wisdom to your own situation with Cory?" she asked, coming back into the room. "The guy could use a serious break right now, Tee."

"Angela, Cory kissed that girl and then lied about it." It was Topanga's turn to flop down on the bench. "How can I trust him now?" she whined, staring woefully at her expensively clad feet.

Angela snorted disdainfully. "Shawn saw the whole thing, and it wasn't that big a deal. According to him, it was about as exciting and meaningful as the one Dana Pruitt forced on him back in February," she added curtly.

"Humph!"

Angela went on undeterred. "And Lauren's the one who initiated it...just like Dana did with Shawn," she stressed, shooting her point home. "Besides, Shawn's the one who encouraged Cory to lie, and you've forgiven him," Angela added craftily. "Are you gonna continue to throw away all the years you and Cory have been together because one desperate man stealing schemer came onto your man?" She didn't even give Topanga a moment to respond before adding, "Because if you are, then you don't deserve the kind of devotion Cory has for you."

Topanga looked up to stare at Angela in amazement. "Wow, Ange," she blurted out. "Where's all this aggression coming from?

Angela shifted her books in her arms. "Where do you think it's coming from? It comes from weeks of being kept away from my boyfriend by my father and coerced into a bogus relationship with a guy that I refuse to have any part of," she replied, her voice colored by frustration. "When I think of everything that we're going through, and you're just _sulking_—"

Topanga glared and scowled.

"—like a big baby because some girl might have briefly pried his eyes off you for a millisecond. You had his undivided attention for so long without challenge that this so-called kiss shook you up, Topanga. It made you doubt yourself more than you doubted Cory's fidelity. It hurt your pride to go from being envied and looked at as the girl who had everything: beauty, intelligence and a perfect relationship to someone who was pitied or who some people were glad to see taken down a peg or two. And the perfect Topanga Lawrence, girl extraordinaire, can't have that," Angela ranted.

"I-I…that's not—" Topanga stuttered, trying to protest only to be cut off.

"It _is_ that. That lame kiss is only a deflection from the real problem. It's time to come clean about this, Tee," Angela declared relentlessly. "You bailed on your relationship _willingly_ for the shallowest of reasons, and it makes me mad," Angela added, undaunted. "I mean, you've been seeing other guys while Cory's been faithfully waiting for you to come to your senses. He hasn't so much as looked at another girl when he could have run to Lauren, and frankly, with the way you've been acting these last few months, I wouldn't have blamed him if he had!"

"Angela!" Topanga gasped, looking hurt.

Angela's soft mouth firmed into a resolute line. "Well, it's true, Tee. I totally get how hurt you were in the beginning, but I can't support what you're doing any longer. It's stupid, petty, mean and-and just plain cruel, especially since you seem to have such compassion and understanding when it comes to Shawn. Where's your compassion for Cory?" she demanded forthrightly. "He's hurting, Topanga, and you don't seem like you care at all." She paused and drew in a deep breath while her friend gawked at her. "So either tell him it's really over and put him out of his misery once and for all, or give him another chance. Even though you've morphed into a…a social butterfly these last months, we both know that you haven't moved on. It's all an act meant to make Cory pay for hurting you."

Angela's eyes narrowed as Topanga's face grew flushed with guilt.

"You know as well as I do that you have about as much interest in Dillon Abercrombie and the rest of those faceless boobs you've been deliberately parading in front of him as I have in Ted Brazelton, which is zero, ziltch and nada. I love you, girl, but if you don't handle your business and soon, I'll have lost all respect for you."

"I-I didn't know you felt this way," she stammered as she looked up at Angela.

Angela shrugged. "I didn't want to interfere, but you're my best friend. We've become as close as sisters, and this thing between you and Cory needs to come to a head," she declared darkly. "I just felt that I needed to say something before it's too late and you wind up more even miserable then you are now."

Topanga pushed a deep breath out through her nose and briefly closed her eyes. She knew that everything Angela had said was true. But acknowledging her advice and acting on it were two differently things.

Angela read the indecision in her friend's expressive face with fond exasperation, and having said her piece, she headed for the door again. "Oh, and my Dad's fixed me up with Ted, so we can't go to the Prom together. That's another reason I'm pissed with you." The statement was tossed over her shoulder at Topanga as she began to rise from the bench. "You can end your high school years on the right note with the man you know you still love, while I have no choice but to allow Ted to be my escort," she said, her voice growing unsteady and sounding like she was on the verge of tears, "or I won't even be able to see Shawn on prom night." She jerked the bathroom door open. "Our lives are about to change forever, Tee. High school is over for us. And this game you're playing needs to end, too. You need to think about what I've said." And with that she was gone, leaving a stunned Topanga with a lot on her mind to follow.

~*~

Shawn slammed into his photography lab, pissed off and wanting to hurt someone so badly that he could taste blood: specifically Ted Brazelton's blood. And a part of him wanted to hurt Angela, too. Not physically, but… how could she say—even _think_ about having sex with that bastard, he thought agitatedly, running his hands through his thick hair, or with anyone other than him?

Shawn stalked over to his work table, knowing that he had to do something to occupy his mind. He reached for the bottles of developing solution only to discover that because his hands were shaking so hard he couldn't hold the bottle still long enough to hold it still enough or muster up enough strength to twist off the cap. In a fit pique, he threw it across the room. It slammed into the wall and hit the floor with a heavy thud.

Unable to work and aware that he couldn't destroy Jonathon's photo lab, he paced around the photo lab like a caged animal, his head thrown back and hands behind his head. His heart was beating so fast and hard that he thought it might burst from his chest as an overload of adrenaline coursed through his system. His breathing was ragged, and his face flushed. The light blue eyes were still dark with emotion.

He exploded in anger, batting a set of empty solution pans against the wall with a vicious swipe of one arm. The met the unyielding white surface with resounding clangs before hitting the hard linoleum floor where they clattered some more until finally they lay still.

Shawn sank down onto the small black leather sofa that sat on one side of the door. He'd always hated having it in his lab, feeling that it encouraged people to come in to sit and chat when he wasn't actively developing film and the light on the side of the door forbade them to enter. Now, he welcomed its presence as he leaned back, head on the ledge, staring up at the ceiling. This girl had him so wound up that he felt like a coiled spring lately. Here he was trying to do his best for them, and she couldn't support him. Couldn't or wouldn't understand that he was trying to be strong for the both of them. He was tired of being the only one fighting both her father and that jerk, Brazelton, in addition to his own raging carnal nature.

Shawn lost track of time, unaware of how long he'd been sitting their, staring at the little balls of dried plaster that decorated the popcorn ceiling concealing its flaws from the naked eyes when someone rapped tentatively at the door. He lifted his head and brooding light blue eyes, darkened by his inner turmoil, met the equally blue gaze of one of his boss's models.

Janet Poplanski was a twenty-two year old, leggy blonde who worked part-time with Jonathan as a model. She was first year graduate student at Pennbrook, majoring in psychology. Shawn had enjoyed the few conversations he'd had with her between photo shoots, but this was the first time they'd been together alone that he could recall.

Shawn watched her enter dispassionately, still numb from his and Angela's quarrel.

"I hope you don't mind some company, Shawn," Janet said in lieu of a formal greeting. "Jonathan's working with Shondra right now. The light wasn't on, so I didn't think you were developing film—"

"Come on in, Janet." He sat up and made room for her on the couch before sprawling on it near the other end. "Take a load off."

Janet happily came over and sat next to him. She was wearing a thin silk robe that hit her legs at mid-thigh. Its baby blue color complimented her pale ash blonde looks. Shawn took in the sight of her long slender legs as the robe rode up her thighs barely covering bikini bottom he knew she wore under it. She was big breasted and leggy. Before Angela had entered his life, Shawn would have gone after her with single-minded purpose, undeterred by her age. She was his type in every way, coloring, body structure and older women were known to be a lot more advanced sexually than girls his own age.

As they sat next to each other, he could tell that she was attracted to him. He'd been aware of that since he'd started working at Jonathan's photo studio, and knew too that she wouldn't have turned away his advances. But he'd never made a move because of Angela. He had what he wanted. Or at least, he'd had what he'd wanted, he thought unhappily. Now, he didn't know where he stood with Angela, and that depressed him more than he could have ever thought possible.

"Shawn?"

His eyes focused, and Janet's face came into view. Her expression was one of concern.

"You okay?"

"No, not really." He sat back and let his head fall back onto the sofa ledge. "I'm not having too good a day."

"You wouldn't be having girl trouble, now would you?" she asked astutely. After all Shawn was a teenaged boy and usually counterparts, teenaged girls, were the reason for any substantial change in behavior or mood. She didn't need her studies to tell her that. She'd been a teenager herself not too long ago.

She laid a sympathetic had on his arm. "Want to talk about it?"

He shrugged off-handedly. "Not particularly. Besides, you wouldn't be interested."

Suddenly the space between them disappeared. She was pressed up against his side. Shawn was usually pretty stand-offish with all of the models, Janet being no exception, even though she was the one closest to his age. Nice, cordial but he definitely kept his distance. Yet she could sense a chink in his customary amour. The female in her told her it had something to do with another female, probably his girlfriend, and also sensed that this was possibly her last and best chance to get a crack at the deliciousness that was Shawn Hunter.

"That's where you're wrong, Shawn. I'm very interested in you," the model whispered. "Every thing about you fascinates me." She slowly ran her hand down his arm.

Shawn raised and turned his head then to find Janet's face only inches from his. He could feel her warm breath on his lips.

He wet his just as she pressed her lips against his mouth. As he closed his eyes, she wasted no time sliding her tongue between his lips. She was an expert kisser, exploring his mouth with precision and mixed with passion. He felt her warm hands on the skin of his chest before one began its downward descent. After kissing for several minutes, with both angling their heads in different directions, drawing the kiss out and heightening the experience, Shawn grabbed her hands, pulling them down from his chest and the front of his pants. He broke the kiss and moved away from her.

"I'm sorry, Janet." He sat back, and pinched the bridge of his nose, releasing a long breath. He'd tried to get into the kiss, tried to enjoy her hands on his body, but it was no use. It was an exercise in futility. Even after some fairly intense foreplay, he was barely semi-erect. "I-I can't do this."

Shawn got up and rolled his shoulders. He buttoned his shirt as he modestly turned his back. Never a prude, he couldn't believe that he didn't even want her seeing his chest especially after she'd just fondled him so intimately. But none of it was hers to touch or look at. Crap! What was wrong with him? Angela was clearly thinking of moving on with Ted. Why couldn't he do the same? he asked himself frustrated and angry, even though he already knew the answer. He was Angela's just as she was his even if she was so angry at him right now that she'd forgotten.

Janet rose and walked around to face him. She smiled slightly as he gazed at the knockout.

"Is it because of Angela?"

A slight furrow appeared between his thick dark brows. "How'd you know about Angela?"

She spread her hands. "I cornered you in here one night. You told me you had a girlfriend," she replied in surprise at his forgetfulness, but without any attitude or huffiness. "I always wanted to apologize for coming on so strong," Janet added with a self-conscious little laugh.

Shawn blushed. He didn't even remember her coming on to him, he thought a little guiltily. Damn! He rubbed his face wearily. Angela had him tied up like a calf in a rodeo, as his father would have said. So much so that he didn't know if he was coming or going to the point where he was forgetting a beautiful woman's advances no less. All other females had ceased to exist for him since meeting Angela. He met Janet's eyes remorsefully.

She smiled ruefully, disappointment showing in her own. "Don't sweat it, Shawn. You were honest with me, and I appreciate it." She backed up and one hand gripped the door handle behind her. "I hope everything works out between you two."

Feeling like a schmuck and a dope, Shawn summoned up a lackluster smile for Janet's benefit. After all, none of this was her fault. His smile faded as the door closed behind her. He laced his fingers and placed his hands behind his head, heading for the wall at rear of the room where he let it fall against the hard plaster.

No, it was all Angela's fault. It was her fault that he had no interest in any other women. Her fault that he was completely whipped, he groaned, and raised his head to let it fall again…and again and again. And they hadn't even slept together yet, his mind raged at the cruel irony. He was whipped before he'd even gotten the pussy. Him. Shawn Hunter. He was so absorbed in his own brand of self-castigation that he failed to hear the gentle knock at the door or its gradual opening.

"Shawn?"

Simultaneously, jerking his head from the wall and dropping his arms, he whirled around at the soft sound of the tentative voice at his back. His ears knew it well, and his heart started to hammer in his chest. He cursed silently under his breath at having been caught at a disadvantage.

The dim lighting of the lab cast light and shadows onto his face from where he stood. Unaware of that somewhat camouflaging effect, he schooled his features and shoved his hands deep into his pockets.

"What do you want?" he asked coldly, yet his heart started racing as it always did whenever he was around her.

Angela's felt the sting of moisture rise in the back of her eyes. Shawn had never used that unfriendly tone with her before. He seemed distant and detached unlike earlier when his anger had been palpable. She discovered that as intimidating as Shawn was in a temper, she preferred hot anger to this icy indifference.

"I-I wanted to talk to you," she replied, her voice husky with the unshed tears, "about what I said this afternoon."

With potent stabs of anger threatening to break his cool as her words replayed in his head, Shawn attempted a nonchalant shrug. His mouth made a little moue that he hoped conveyed his disinterest.

"There's nothing to talk about, Angela. You were clear." He pulled his hands from his pockets and came forward, but stopped at his work table. "I have work to do, so you can let yourself out," he added, picking up a bottle of developing solution to pour into an inch high aluminum pan.

Angela bit her soft under lip and shifted her weight. "Shawn…" Her voice cracked and after a pause she tried again. "I'm sorry for what I said. I d-didn't mean it," she quavered. "I would never do anything like that."

Shawn's hands stilled. They came to rest on the edge of the table, his eyes squeezed shut tightly. He was still so very hurt. She had shaken him to the core with her threat to proposition Ted. Here he was trying to do his best for them, and she could tell him some shit like that. Yet in spite of it all, all he wanted to do was pull her close, bury his face in her neck, feel her warmth and breathe her sweet essence until the pain went away.

He felt a timid hand on his arm. He opened his eyes and turned his head to look at her.

"How could you say something like that to me, Angela? Huh?" he railed, a note of pain and anger resonating under the low pitch of his voice. "I don't see how you could have any feelings for me and say some foul shit like that!"

He jerked his arm away to stand with his back to her. She could hear the rasp of his harsh breathing.

Her eyes followed him anxiously. "I was angry and…and jealous." His whipped around at the admission, scowling at her. "I didn't even know if you'd care after the way you rejected me," she cried agitatedly.

Shawn stared at her. Why were women so difficult? Why couldn't they just take things at face value and not make a situation more complicated than it already was, he wondered suddenly exhausted and more than a little depressed by all the recent drama.

"Angela, I tried to explain why I did what I did!" Shawn exclaimed with exasperation, sounding more like his old self.

Angela seemed not to have heard him.

"Do want to break up with me so you can be with someone else?" she asked in a small voice. "Is-Is it because of that woman I saw coming out of here?"

Shawn studied her forlorn form for a moment: eyes downcast with the crescents of long eyelashes and the soft under lip caught between her white teeth. He covered the physical distance between them. Now if only he could as easily bridge the schism that marred their relationship.

Shawn groaned and grabbed her, his arms sliding around her waist.

She looked up at him. Large pear shaped tears hung from the ends of her lashes. She was breathing through slightly parted lips, her breath catching delicately.

He couldn't help himself. Lowering his head, he kissed her. The feel of that soft mouth, the warmth and sweet taste of its interior, so long denied him, made his blood sing. This was the feeling that he craved.

"Does that feel like I don't want you?" he asked hoarsely, grinding into her stomach a little. He was hard enough to chisel stone. "Does it feel like I want anybody else?"

"Then why did you reject me last night?" she asked, sniffing and cuddling in his arms. Her head lay just under his chin.

"Baby, I explained that already. Because I won't have our first time being about your father and this mess we're in," he replied firmly. "And that's what it was about: you showing him up. Don't say it wasn't because I know it was." He tried to mitigate the severity of the scold by laying a soft kiss on her curls.

Angela didn't try to deny it this time. They stood together seeking and receiving comfort and reassurance from each other.

"Are we okay now?" she asked, her voice slightly muffled by his shirt.

Shawn tipped her head back and gazed down at her, running the pad of one thumb over the crest of her cheekbone, slowly tracing her jaw line and finally her bottom lip. He dipped his head for another kiss. He deepened it, his tongue inside her mouth, stroking hers. He knew he shouldn't but he couldn't help it. She was so pretty, inside and out, and everything he wanted.

When he raised his head, he sighed and determinedly put her away from him before his libido got the better of his good intentions.

Angela's eyes and face were glowing from the passionate kisses and tender caresses. She whispered softly, "I guess that means yes."

Shawn favored her with a lopsided grin and pecked her lips once more before having her to sit and wait for him while he developed film for Jonathan. After he'd finished, they left, heading for Shawn's apartment. He'd called ahead to see if Jack would loan him his car so that he could take Angela home.

They traversed the six blocks from the downtown studio to the apartment within minutes. They didn't spend much of that time talking, preferring to just enjoy being together for the first time in weeks.

Shawn held the entrance door open for Angela and went in behind her. He slipped an arm around her shoulders as they crossed to the elevator. The ride to his floor was short and soon they were at Shawn's door. He let them in with his key.

"You can't just attack me like you did in the car," he was scolding Angela as she went ahead of him into the apartment.

Angela smirked. "You seemed to like it at the time," she said coyly.

"You caught me off guard," he protested. "In-In a moment of weakness, I gave in to my baser nature. Besides," he said, eyeing her sternly, "I couldn't do anything about it since I was driving. I was at your mercy."

Angela draped herself on his chest, curling her arms around his neck. "I know, baby, but I couldn't help it," she cooed, and gave him a look designed to wheedle her way into his good graces. "After what you were doing to me at the Ted's—don't scowl like that every time I say his name, Shawn— at Ted's party," she went on, "how did you expect me to behave?"

Shawn carefully removed her arms from his neck and put her away from him. "For one thing, I don't want to think about that scumbag much less hear his name coming from those pretty lips, and for another," he sighed, flashing her a look of contrition, "I apologize for my behavior at the party." He hung his head. "I just couldn't seem to control myself that night."

Angela gazed at Shawn with wonder. Topanga was right. He had been holding her at arm's length and avoiding her because he couldn't trust himself around her.

"What?" he asked anxiously. "Why're you looking at me like that?"

"Topanga said—"

"Baby, please don't believe everything Topanga says!" Crap! All he needed: man hating Topanga poisoning Angela against him. "She doesn't have all the answers. I don't care how smart she thinks she is," he declared anxiously.

Angela rolled her eyes. "Relax, Shawn. Topanga loves you like a brother. All she said was that you were avoiding being alone with me, not only because of my father, but," her eyes fell under his steadfast albeit curious gaze, "because you don't quite trust yourself to be around me."

Shawn's thick eyebrows rose. "Topanga said that?" Then thinking about it, he smiled reluctantly as Angela nodded somewhat bashfully. "Well, she's partially right," he admitted, scratching his ear. Angela grinned at this sign that he was telling the truth.

"What?" He raised an eyebrow.

Angela edged closer. "It's just that even though I understand how difficult this is for you, you can't keep treating me like a stranger, Shawn." She pouted adorably, her bottom lip jutting out in the way that he loved. "I need some kind of affection," she asserted and began flirting with him with her eyes, gazing up at him through her lashes.

His breathing quickened. "Stop that, dammit!" He felt himself rise instantly. Crap! Was this how it going to be for the rest of his life? Shawn stiffened in surprise at the thought. Where had that come from? The rest of his life…with Angela? His mouth moved as he silently mouthed the words. The rest of his life with Angela.

Shawn stared at her so long with such a look of amazement on his face that was quickly followed by one that she didn't recognize at all that Angela became concerned. She waved a hand in front of his eyes.

"Shawn, baby? Is everything alright?" she asked anxiously. "You look—_weird_."

Recognition returned, and Shawn blushed, feeling shy and looking really cute in his confusion. He was beginning to understand his behavior a little better now. In fact, it explained quite a bit. Nevertheless, he couldn't talk about this with her yet. One day, but not now. Instead, he grabbed Jack's car keys from table where the phone sat in the kitchen and walked back to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

"Now that we've both decided that we're abstaining from sex for the near future, you've got to help me out, baby." He turned them around and guided them toward the front door. "Okay, for starters, there's gonna have to be some ground rules laid around here, since I'm not going to be," he quipped. "All joking aside, I'm serious about the ground rules."

"Ground rules," she repeated, sounding doubtful. "What kind of ground rules?"

"Rule number one: no tempting little Shawn—"

"_Little Shawn_!" Stunned, Angela blinked and then giggled. What a misnomer that was! "Is that what you call…?" She glanced down at the front of his pants.

"Yeah, that's what I call '_him_'," Shawn replied firmly. He cleared his throat while opening the door for her to pass through, adding, "Now, as I was saying, no tempting little Shawn when big Shawn clearly can't control…" The door closing cut of the rest of Shawn's statement. Seconds later, Jack and Eric cautiously came out from their hiding places: Eric from the pantry and Jack from the coat closet in the hallway on the second floor.

Shawn's two roommates had seen him and Angela from the balcony where they'd been sitting over a couple of beers. They'd high-tailed it inside so that they could find strategic places to hide and eavesdrop. Presently, they looked at each other, their expressions deadpan, and then allowed the laughter that had been building for some time to overflow.

Finally, Eric said with a shake of his head, "That Shawn has the most entertaining life for high school kid."

Jack agreed, nodding. One thing he'd also noted was that his little brother was finally growing up. And it was a welcome surprise.

* * *

**A/N: **Shawn convinces Angela to go along with his plan. Angela has an unexpected visitor. Shawn learns that Ted is Angela's date for the Prom, and a private conversation is overheard.


	8. Chapter 8

_Chapter Eight_

Shawn pulled across the street from Angela's house and parked. He walked her up to her house once they'd made sure that her father wasn't home. It was his habit to park on the drive strip instead of in the garage as Angela mentioned to Shawn, and since there was no sign of his car, they assumed that he hadn't yet made it home.

Deciding to live a little dangerously, they took advantage of that fact. Shawn accompanied Angela up the couple of steps to the small porch for an extended farewell.

"Okay, see," Shawn groaned, finally coming up for air, "this is what almost got us in trouble the last time I was here."

"Can you believe that that was just a few weeks ago? What I wouldn't give to go back in time," she sighed. "Everything was much simpler then." With another sigh, she turned away, slid her key into the door, opened it and tossed her purse and keychain onto the little half moon table off to the right just before the stairs. She closed it and faced Shawn.

"I should probably go now," he suggested reluctantly yet made no move to leave.

"No," Angela protested. "I don't want you to go." She draped herself over his chest and raised her lips for another kiss.

Even though his hands automatically settled around her waist, he kept his head upright.

"Angela, if your father pulls up and catches me here with you, there's gonna be hell to pay," he told her as her eyes opened when he didn't kiss her. "Remember the bigger picture here, babe."

"Oops! Sorry. I forgot that my once crazy boyfriend is now this reformed rebel with a cause," she said only half-jokingly.

"That's right," he admitted with a slight grin. "And it's too important a cause for me or you for that matter to mess up because our hormones are working overtime."

Angela looked up into his face with a pout.

"It's just that I've never felt like that before. Like I wanted to do anything with a boy." She bit her lip and with a bashful look on her face, admitted, "It's not that easy to suppress those feelings, Shawn."

"Who're you telling?" He retorted, but then smiled down at her and laid a gentle kiss on her lips.

He slowly lifted his head. "Now you've had a taste of what guys go through. I've been controlling my urges since I was twelve when I realized that girls weren't icky like I thought." A deep chuckle rumbled in his chest. "You'll get used to it."

"Maybe I don't want to get used to it," his girlfriend offered. She ran her hands over his chest and then his back.

He let go of her and took a step back with a heavy sigh. "You have to, at least, until we figure a way out of this jam."

The drapery covering the sidelight on the right side of the door inched away from the glass. A faint shadow in the form of a head appeared towards the top portion of the rectangular window.

Angela was vehemently disagreeing with Shawn when he put a finger to her lips.

"Do we have to argue about this?" he asked wearily.

Angela stated with an unmistakable edge to her voice, "There's nothing to argue about. Fact is, I'm not going to Stanford. I'm going to stay here and go to Pennbrook. I've got a scholarship. It won't help with my room and board, but I can find a job, get an apartment and a couple of roommates to help with the rent just like plenty of other kids do." She looked up at Shawn. "I don't care if my father disowns me. All that matters is that we're together."

Shawn groaned. It was a tortured sound that seemed pulled from the depths of his soul. "Angela, can't you see that that's exactly what I _don't_ want for you?" Unconsciously, his hand raked through his hair, leaving it attractively rumbled. He looked at her with worried eyes. "I don't want you estranged from your father, and if being with me is going to do that then—"

"You mean you're just going to let him come between us?" she interjected in anticipating his words. She was both stunned and hurt. "I-I thought you loved me!" She looked like she was on the verge of bursting into tears.

Without hesitation, Shawn wrapped his arms around her, uncaring if they were seen by her father in the off chance that he pulled up.

He kissed her temple and soothingly ran his hands up and down her back.

Angela held onto him tightly, burying her face in his neck.

"Honey, you didn't let me finish. What I was going to say was that I think you should go to Stanford."

Angela pulled away to look at him. "What? No. Shawn—"

"Listen to me," he insisted quietly, but firmly, silencing her. "I think you should go because you really don't want this thing with your father to get any worse. I know first hand how it feels not to have parents, Angela. Neither of my parents gives a damn about me. That's been the single thing that's fucked with my head most of my life. Your father loves you, and even as misguided as he is right now, you've always been close. He's always been there for you. That's not something you want to throw away." He gazed into her eyes, his expression serious. "And I can't let you do that on account of me."

"How can you even care about his feelings?" she flung at him.

"_Because_ Angela," he began a little impatiently, "I don't know where my mother is, and I don't have any kind of relationship with my father. At least you've always had your Dad. He's been there for you. And he still would be if it wasn't for me." Bitterness seaped through his voice.

"Don't you dare blame yourself for what's happened between me and my father, Shawn," she argued. "It's not your fault that he's behaving the way he is."

"Maybe not," he conceded, yet added, his tone laden with guilt, "but it feels like it. I hate that you've lost something that's precious to you. It kills me."

Angela stared at him, a soft adoring looking in her eyes. "If only my father could see how wonderful you really are, Shawn. If only he'd allowed himself a chance to get to know you. The real you, and not who he thinks you are because of where you grew up and who your parents are."

"I wish that too, baby. I mean, outside of what he's doing to us, he seems like a-a great guy," he remarked, and tried to put some conviction into his statement. The smile that followed was rather weak in comparison though.

Angela trailed a light hand down the side of his face, appreciating his efforts, but she shook her head.

"I thought so too at one time. But I'm not so sure anymore," she said sadly.

"Angela, I just don't want you to lose something I've always wanted," he explained.

She gazed at him with her heart in her eyes. "I don't think I could love you anymore than I do right now." She cuddled into his chest.

"I just hate that you and your Dad are fighting because of me," he said after a few moments. "This situation isn't fair to you. You shouldn't have to choose between me and your father."

Tears sprang to Angela's eyes. She tore herself out of his arms, and turned her back on him, arms wrapped around her middle.

"I know I shouldn't, but don't you think he should be the one to recognize that? Who's the adult here?" she choked out. "I don't like being at odds with him, Shawn, but he's the one who's acting like a child. He won't see anyone else's point of view." She gave a forlorn sniff. "And the worst thing about it all, besides us not being together, is that this isn't completely about you."

He frowned. "What do you mean?"

Angela emitted a deep sigh. "I never told you about my mother."

Shawn walked up behind her, gently gripping her shoulders. Angela leaned back into him, and shivered as she absorbed the heat from his body even though the evening wasn't cool.

"I know you never talk about her," Shawn remarked. "You only told me that your parents are divorced. So…what does our problem have to do with her?"

Angela slowly gave him a thorough rundown of her mother and father's history. The early parallels between the high sweethearts' situation then and theirs now weren't lost on Shawn.

"I've got to admit…something…to you, Angela," Shawn said hesitantly before plunging on. "When I saw your GPA and senior class ranking, I have to admit that I was kinda thrown by it."

Angela raised her eyebrows in surprise.

Shawn looked away briefly, but met her gaze full after blowing out a deep breath.

"I-I was panicked wondering what an overachiever like you could see in me, and how you would feel about me once we were out of high school and in a college setting. For a while, until Cory kept talking me down from the ledge, I was afraid that I wouldn't be able to keep up with you, Angela, so in a way, I kind of understand how your Dad felt."

Angela looked at him with concern. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"How could I? I was embarrassed and then this thing happened with your Dad hating my guts, and I guess I realized that it didn't matter. When faced with a real problem, the fact that your smarter than I am didn't seem that important after all. All that mattered is that we want to be together because we love each other. And I suppose," he said slowly, thinking out what he wanted to say, "that's why you going away to college isn't as scary for me as it was."

"Well, I'm still scared, Shawn," Angela admitted. "I wish I was as confident as you. I just…I don't want to lose you."

Shawn smiled, and Angela's heart filled in her chest. He didn't smile that often, but when he did, it was like the heaven's opening and a massive rainbow pouring down from a cloud.

"You're not gonna to lose me, and I'm damn sure not gonna lose you." He gave her his crooked smile. "I'm gonna visit you so much that you'll be _begging_ me to leave to you alone."

"Never!" Angela said fiercely.

He had to kiss her for that. When he raised his head, they both were breathless.

"I want you to visit me every chance you get," she insisted around a ragged breath.

"There's not gonna be any 'chance' about it. I'm going to do this thing in an organized way. Every month, I'm going to be on your doorstep."

"How?"

"Well, you remember that Jonathan offered me a full time position, but I turned it down because I was planning to take a full load this coming semester?"

Angela nodded.

"I asked him about the other day, and he told me it was still open and mine if I wanted it. It even comes with a slight raise since he last offered it to me because he's been having so much trouble finding someone he thinks has a good enough eye to really train so he can expand the business. So I'm gonna work full-time, and go to school part-time. It'll take me a little longer to finish, but...so what. I was thinking that if we just stick to this and everything works out like we want it to, then maybe in a couple of years when your Dad sees that you're following your dreams and excelling in school, he'll admit that he was wrong. He'll see that I want what's best for you as much as he does. Of course, it's not guaranteed," he commented with a shrug, "but I'm willing to do whatever I can to make sure to try and make that happens. I meant what I said, Angela. I don't want you to have to choose between your father and me."

"Shawn, how can you be so upbeat about this?" she asked miserably.

He shrugged. "Look, I've never had the most optimistic outlook on life, but you, Cory, Topanga, Mr. and Mrs. Matthews, and even Jack and Eric have shown me that I can have good things in my life," he said simply. "They may not come to me as easy as for some, but I can have them. I can have a wonderful girlfriend and a great future. I just have to believe that things will work out for us, Angela. And you're gonna have to as well."

"I-I'll try," she promised with a wan smile.

He hugged her close. "That's my girl!" he said, beaming down at her before he sighed. "I guess this is my cue to leave. I don't want your Dad showing up while I'm still here. It's only gonna set him off, and that's all we need right now." He kissed her temple, turned to step off the short stoop and bumped into someone hard enough to knock the person down.

His heart hammering, he looked down at a black girl lying spread eagle on the green grass of the front lawn.

"Oh, man!" he exclaimed, holding out a hand to her. "I'm sorry."

She shot him a hateful look. "Yeah, you are, but what does that have to do with your clumsy ass knocking me down, jerk!"

Shawn's hand retracted immediately. He scowled and felt his temper begin to rise. He wanted to say something cutting to the rude girl but stopped himself in time thinking she might be a friend of Angela's. Just before he turned his head to ask, he felt her come up behind him, his back muscles flexing slightly as her breasts brushed against him before she ducked her head around him to peer down at the girl with a frown adorning her face.

"Um, just who do you think you are talking to my boyfriend like that?" Angela bristled. "You don't know him well enough to talk to him like that. For that matter, you don't know him at all, and I sure as hell don't know you either."

The girl smirked as she rose to her feet. "Oh, but I know you and we have a mutual friend in common."

Angela allowed one eyebrow skeptically, doubting the validity of that statement.

"Ted Brazelton. My boyfriend, Ted."

None of the teenagers noticed the strangled intake of breath that sounded just behind the front door.

"Your boyfriend," Angela parroted, coming out from behind Shawn. "You're Ted's girlfriend?" She looked the other girl up and down.

She had long brown hair that fell to her waist from a center part, blemish free dark chocolate skin, small features and slightly slanted copper-hued brown eyes. Her make up was light and attractive, accentuating all of her best attributes. The girl's hand were smoothing her tight jeans over her hips and her belly button revealing t-shirt, unnecessarily drawing attention to her shaply figure.

Angela rolled her eyes and then gave Shawn a sidelong glance.

Shawn, however, was still scowling, his eyes intent on the newcomer but not from any personal interest or attraction. At the mention of Ted's name, his nostrils flared ominously though in spite of his calm appearance.

Angela breathed easy and brought her attention back to the girl.

"Does Ted's _girlfriend_ have a name?"

"Cherise," she replied, stepping onto the stoop. Shawn moved to make room for her, yet made sure that he was stationed in between this 'Cherise' person and Angela. He didn't trust any friend or 'girlfriend' of Ted Brazelton's.

With all thoughts of leaving gone, Shawn folded his arms, waiting to hear what else the brash girl had to say.

"Look, I'm not here to cause any trouble," she asserted, looking back and forth from Shawn to Angela.

Angela snorted. "You could've fooled me."

"Whatever," Cherise said with an attitude that belied her earlier statement. "I just thought you ought to know that even though you think you've got Ted, you really don't. A goody two shoes like you can't hold him for long, and I'll still be here when he drops you."

Even though Angela had no interest in Ted as a friend, boyfriend or anything else, her curiosity was piqued against her will.

She raised an eyebrow. "Oh, and why're you so sure that I'm going to be the one who's dropped?" she asked sharply, causing Shawn to look at her in surprise.

Cherise's smile was smug. "Ted likes girls who understand a man's needs. Unless you willing to put out," she said pointedly, so that the other girl couldn't mistake her meaning, "he's going to drop you like you're not so hot."

A sharp in take of breath went unnoticed by the group standing on the small porch.

Shawn sneered. He wasn't surprised in the least by this revelation concerning Ted's obnoxious attitude toward women.

For her part, Angela had had enough of this obnoxious girl. "Okay, message delivered." She dismissed her with a look and averted her face.

Cherise parted her lips to say something nasty, but when her eyes met Shawn's hard stare, she thought better of it. Shrugging off the slight, she turned to go. After all, she rationalized, she'd accomplished what she'd come to do.

"Oh, Cherise?" Angela's soft voice called out.

She glanced over her shoulder.

"For your information, I don't want Ted. _He's_ the one who's pursuing _me_. He's the one who's conned my father into thinking he's some great guy. So much so that he and my father cooked up this scheme where he's taking me to the Prom even though I don't want to go with him." So intent was she on sticking it to Cherise that Angela missed Shawn's double take at her words. "So just imagine how shocked I am to hear that even with all your...strenuous _back work_," she smirked at Cherise, "you still can't hold onto your 'boyfriend'," Angela finished up sweetly.

Cherise surveyed her through narrowed eyes and her jaw clenched in anger, but unable to find a suitable comeback, she stomped away, disappearing as quickly as she'd appeared.

Angela's treaclely expression faded. "_Oooh_!" She stomped her foot. "That no good bastard. That...that _slimeball_!"

Shawn stared at Angela, feeling a little jealousy rise. "What are you so angry about?" he demanded angrily. "Are you pissed that Brazelton's sleeping with that chick while he's been chasing you?"

"What?" Angela asked somewhat blankly. "What're you talking about?"

Shawn folded his arms and stepped right in front of her. "I'm talking about the fact that you seem upset that the jerk's seeing another girl and sleeping with her." His eyes glared into her startled ones, his agitation betrayed by their darkening hue. "What's up with that?"

His unexpected outburst had caused Angela's to mouth fall open. Then, as her hand flew up to cover her lips, she began to giggle.

Shawn's features seemed to be etched in stone. "I'm glad you think this is funny!" he said coldly. He dropped his arms and started to turn away.

"Shawn Patrick Hunter, don't dare walk away from me because of that jerk." Angela grabbed the arm closest to her. He allowed her to pull him back as she came up to him. Her arms slowly snaked around his waist as Shawn fixed his eyes over her head, his face sullen.

As Angela leaned in, her lips gently nipped the cleft in his chin. Then she kissed it. She pressed tender kisses along his jaw line until he relented. His arms came up to encircle her around her midriff even as the stiffness left his body.

"Okay, okay. I'm an idiot," he sighed, his jealousy having dissipated.

"You are _so_ cute when you're jealous," Angela cooed. She was actually flattered and would have continued with her pleasurable ministrations, but Shawn pulled back suddenly as something occurred to him.

"Hey, what's this about you going to the Prom with that asshole?" he asked abruptly, his tone sharp.

Angela paused in mid-kiss. "Oh. Um...did-did I forget to mention...that?" she asked hesitantly.

"Uh, yeah. Ya did," he told her somewhat testily.

She leaned her forehead against his shoulder. "Baby, don't be mad at me. I swear just found out last night when my father and I were arguing," Angela began wheedling as she stroked his back. "That's one of the reasons I was so upset."

"God, this situation has gotten so out of control," Shawn cried, pulling away to run both hands through his hair. "I don't think I can stand seeing you there with him, Angela. I know you can handle yourself, but…" He began to pace up and down the confined area of the small porch. The hard heels of his boots tapped harshly against the hard concrete. "I mean, if he tries something with you," he released an unsteady breath, "I know I'm gonna lose it and beat the _shit_ out of him. I…don't think I can be there."

"No!" Angela exploded, stunned by his decision. "Shawn, the prom's the crowning event of our senior year. You have to go. We have to at least dance one dance together."

Shawn stopped his pacing and looked at her, but didn't say anything.

"Then I'm not going." She crossed her arms as if to add weight to her statement.

"Angela— "

"No," she cut him off hotly, "I already know what you're going to say, and I don't care if my Dad likes it or not. My God, Shawn, Ted's totally pulling a fast one, and my Dad's a willing dupe." She flung out her hand in the direction in which Cherise had taken off. "You heard that girl. Ted's using her for sex, and if I tried to tell that to my father, he wouldn't even believe me. He'd just dismiss it; he'd say I shouldn't listen to a girl who's motives are suspect, and that she wants Ted for herself. He wouldn't believe that Ted's a bonafide 'playa' and a sexist pig."

Shawn scratched his ear thoughtfully. "Well, he'd be wrong, although I could see his point about Cherise."

Angela squinted at him. "Okay, you know something." It wasn't a question.

He glanced at her briefly before looking away again out onto the streetscape. He watched as a late model sports car made its way down the street, surprisingly without the din of music blaring.

"Those girls I told you about? The ones he started seeing after you dumped him?" Shawn asked

Angela nodded, prompting him to continue.

"Well, I didn't tell you the reason he dumped all three of them so quickly, one right after the other."

Angela gasped. "Oh my God," she butt in before he could explain. "Don't tell me they refused to have sex with him, and he dumped them for it?"

"No." Shawn wagged his head. "When I started asking around about Brazelton, I was told something I needed to verify, so I talked to each one of those girls."

"What did they say?" she asked curiously.

"Well, at first, nothing," he admitted, eyes narrowing thoughtfully as he rubbed the back of his neck. "But after I explained my problem with the guy, how he was after you even though he knew we were together, they loosened up a lot. The long and short of it is, each one I approached eventually admitted that they'd had sex with him, and _then_ he dumped each one after he'd gotten what he wanted. That Cherise chick can consider herself officially dumped. You're the one that got away, Angela. Mr. High School Football Star's ego can't take your rejection. That's why he's so fixated on getting with you. Well, I mean, besides the fact that you're gorgeous," he added hastily as he turned his head to her.

Angela sidled up to him and kissed his cheek. "It's okay. _My_ ego isn't that fragile," she murmured, "and this makes sense to me. I knew there had to be some other reason for him hanging around after I'd made it very clear that I was with you when I broke it off with him. But I'm not gonna lie and say that I had a clue that he was like that. I guess all those girls he's messed over are so ashamed that they keep quiet from embarrassment, inadvertently making it possible for him to keep using more girls." She shook her head in disgust. "That creep has everyone fooled. He had me fooled, too."

"You hurt his pride, babe, and he's made it a point of honor to get what he _thinks_ I've gotten from you."

Angela emitted a frustrated growl. Shawn smiled slightly in spite of his own frustration because the sound she made emerged sounding like an annoyed kitten.

"I'm just so sick of this, Shawn," she declared irritably. "This situation just gets more tangled the longer it goes on. It's-It's _snowballing_ what with Ted's plot to get me into bed with him, and Dad's plan to help him get me there even if he doesn't know that's what he's doing." Her dark eyes flashed with anger. "Well, I may not have control over what they do, but there is one thing I do have some control over."

"What's that?"

"Me. I'm not stepping foot outside this house with Ted. I don't want that disgusting excuse for a guy anywhere near me," she said with a visible shudder. "And I don't care how much trouble that gets me into with my father."

Shawn didn't respond to her announcement. He seemed to be deep in thought.

"Shawn?"

"Oh, sorry." He blinked, focused and gave her his attention before making a shocking announcement.

"Angela, I think you should go to the prom." Her face took on a look he recognized: stubbornness. Shawn forged ahead in spite of it. "Look, I've been thinking, and I've changed my mind about not going," he said surprising her. His hands glided down her arms reassuringly. "I'm gonna be right there to make sure Brazelton doesn't try anything. As much as it pains me to even think of that guy being anywhere near you, I just think we've got to stick to our plan of wearing your father down without being overtly confrontational." He dipped his head to look her directly in the eyes from his slightly taller height. "So…what do you say?"

Angela chewed her bottom lip and gazed at him solemnly, unable to look away. When he looked at her like this, with this slightly pleading look in his azure eyes, she found it hard to deny him anything.

"Alright. But not because I want to or because I think giving into my Dad is the right thing to do, Shawn," she hastened to explain. "I'm only doing this because you asked me to and for no other reason." She gave the collar of his button down shirt a quick jerk, pulling him up against her. "And you better dance one slow dance with me even if Ted rats us out to my father. That's my one condition."

Shawn grabbed her and gleefully whirled her around. "Done. I was gonna do that anyway, you know," he stated cheekily. He set her down gently.

Angela hit his arm, but melted into him. "I love you," she said, holding his eyes with her own.

"I love you, too, baby." He lowered his head, his lips meeting hers. Angela's lips parted just before they touched, and Shawn's tongue slid inside her mouth, intimately swirling around the soft velvet of her own.

Angela purred in her throat. His tongue sparred with hers a little longer until he broke their contact, lifting his mouth just above hers. Their foreheads touched. The wet warmth of their breaths mingled as they stood motionless, savoring the sensations the kiss had initiated in their bodies.

Shawn was breathing even more fitfully than Angela. "Damn girl, you don't know what you do to me," he said huskily.

"Actually, I think I do," she murmured, her lips almost touching his as she spoke.

Sucking in a deep, calming breath that restored some of his control, Shawn released her and stepped back.

"I better get going. This time for real. We've pushed our luck enough as it is." He gave his watch a cursory glance, and then looked over his shoulder at the empty street. "Your Dad could come home any minute."

Angela held onto him, not wanting him to go.

He gently but firmly removed her hands from his shirt. "I gotta go."

She sighed unhappily. "Okay." She leaned forward, pecking his full lips. "Love you."

"Of course you do." Before she could retaliate by swatting him for his cockiness, he jumped down the two steps to the concrete pathway, turning just before he made it to the sidewalk that bordered the front lawn. "Love you, too," he called out, giving her a heart stopping smile.

Angela grinned blissfully and blew him a kiss which he made a big production of catching and holding over his heart. Then, after a short walk across the street, he climbed into Jack's car. He honked at her before he sped off and was gone.

Angela waved one final time, and went into the house, not even noticing that the door was standing slightly ajar.

She went into the kitchen to make herself a snack before dinner. Spending extended time with Shawn had caused her diminished appetite to return somewhat to normal.

Before long, and with half a sandwich in hand, Angela strolled out of the kitchen to see her father come through the front door. Not even seeing him could dampen her high.

"Hey Dad," she said pleasantly enough.

Sergeant Moore seemed surprised that she'd actually greeted him without prompting or having been spoken to first.

"Oh...uh, hi."

"I made myself a sandwich. If you want the other half, it's on the counter in a container," she offered on her way to the stairs. "I'm going upstairs to call Topanga, and then I'll be down to start dinner."

Alvin Moore loosened his tie. His wasn't wearing his uniform jacket. Angela just assumed that he'd left it in his car.

"Angela, I..." he began but paused after gazing into her face on which a look of inquiry had appeared, instead saying quietly, "Thanks. I'll be in my office."

Angela nodded. "No problem. I'll call you when it's ready." She passed him as he stood in the foyer with his keys digging into the palm of his tightly clenched hand.

Alvin gazed up at her retreating form until she made it to the top of the stairs. As she turned and walked out of his view, he expelled a heavy sigh and sagged limply against the door.

* * *

**A/N:** Next Chapter: Shawn misses his best friend and goes to him for advice. Topanga and Cory try to move past their individual hurts and mend their relationship. And Sergeant Moore makes a surprising move.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

As Shawn headed back to the apartment, he allowed himself to admit that he was as worried as Angela about their future. At the moment though, the thing that was pressing most on his mind was the prom. An event he wouldn't have even cared that much about before meeting Angela. Now all he could think about was her being with Ted while he was forced to look on as a spectator. It was eating him alive, and the only person who'd ever been able to calm him when he felt life kicking him in his teeth for the umpteenth time was his buddy, his best friend, Cory.

But Mr. Matthews had had Cory on major lockdown since he'd gotten arrested. They hadn't really hung out together since that life altering night. Shawn abruptly slammed his hand against the steering wheel. He needed to talk to Cory. Jack had been a great help, and Shawn appreciated everything he'd been doing, but he wasn't Cory. And Angela needed him to be strong for her, he couldn't let on how absolutely terrified he was of losing her. Of losing someone who loved him.

Unbeknown to his friends and Jack, more and more the lure of alcohol had begun to exercise an insidious pull as the situation with Sergeant Moore worsened. His weekly counseling sessions had helped, but the strain of having restricted access to both of the most important people in his life was being to wear on him here lately. He'd played this one close to his chest, not letting on to anyone that he was feeling the pressure to imbibe, and it was wearing him down—big time.

He couldn't keep this temptation to himself any longer, and Cory had been one of his major supporters the when he'd first developed a taste for downing his emotions in copious bottles of beer. Jack would freak if he learned how close Shawn had come to slipping and emulating their Dad. There was only one person that could take the blow of this disclosure on the chin and not give him grief about it.

At the next intersection, Shawn turned around, heading in the opposite direction toward Cory's house, his mind made up. He'd square things with Jack later for having taken the car longer than what was necessary to bring Angela home. This was an emergency. He'd had to see if Mr. Matthew's would allow him to talk to Cory. If he explained how things were, maybe they could have a few minutes to talk. He had to try. His sobriety and sanity both depended on it.

The evening traffic was light, and within minutes Shawn was parked out front of the Matthew's residence and knocking on their door. Such was his closeness and familiarity with that family that he'd gone around the side of the house to the kitchen entrance.

Through the top half of the door, Shawn saw Mr. Matthews come through the living room just beyond and walk into the kitchen. When he spied Shawn, his step seemed to slow slightly but it was so subtle that Shawn wasn't sure he hadn't imagined it. Soon, the door had opened, and he was face to face with Cory's father and recent jailer.

"Um, hi, Mr. Matthews," Shawn began a little hesitantly. "I know Cory's still punished, but-but could I please speak to him, sir? I wouldn't have come by if it wasn't important."

Taking a deep breath and looking into the eyes of the boy he'd known since he'd first met him at six years old when an excited Cory had come dragging the kid through the house to announce that he was his new very best friend, Alan stepped back, pulled the door open fully and nodded.

"Come in, Shawn." He smiled ruefully as an expression of intense relief showed up on Shawn's face. He stepped inside. As Alan closed the door behind him, he added, "I was wondering how long it would be before one or the both of you would be begging me to see each other outside of school hours."

Shawn stood in the middle of the kitchen, looking at Alan as he rested his hand on the counter, leaning his weight against it.

"Like I said, Mr. Matthews, I wouldn't have come, but I really need to talk to Cory."

Alan smiled slightly before turning his head toward the stairs that split the wall on the far right of the eat-in kitchen in two.

"Cory!" he yelled, raising his voice to its maximum volume. "Shawn's here!"

Cory came bounding down the stairs into the kitchen. He was wearing a white tee-shirt with the logo 'Just Do It', faded jeans torn at one knee and converse black and white sneakers.

"Hey Dad," he called out before he saw Shawn.

"Shawn's here. You've got an hour," Alan announced before disappearing on the other side of the swinging kitchen door.

"Shawnie," Cory exclaimed. He went over to his friend who was leaning against the island. "How'd you pull that off?"

Shawn shrugged and one side of his mouth curved. "I think he was overwhelmed by my charisma and charm," he deadpanned.

Cory chuckled. "Yeah. Okay." He suffed Shawn on one shoulder and moved to sit down at the table, prompting Shawn to do the same. "What's up?" He gazed across at his friend curiously.

That was all that was needed to breach the pent up dam of misgivings that had been plaguing Shawn since he'd left Angela's.

"This is kind of hard to say, especially considering what your on punishment for, but I've-I've been wanting to drink…recently."

"And have you?"

Shawn shook his head. "No…not yet, anyway."

He leaned forward, his eyes holding Shawn's. "You can't afford a slip like that Shawn. You know that."

"I know. I know," Shawn said, groaning.

"Promise me you'll tell your counselor about the cravings, Shawn. This thing with Angela has been pretty stressful, and he needs to know that you aren't handling this additional pressure as well as you seem to be."

Shawn nodded. He'd known he'd needed to do that, but he hadn't been able to overcome his reluctance to admit to this weakness on his own.

"I promise. But I was kinda hoping that maybe you'd be able to talk me out of it. Like the old days," Shawn remarked, smiling uncertainly.

Cory shook his head. "This ain't some hair brained prank you've come up with, Shawn. Not the same thing at all," he commented. "You've got to come clean to your counselor before you make a mistake."

Again, Shawn nodded and then ran a hand through his hair. "Speaking of mistakes, I might have made a huge one this evening with Angela."

A crease appeared in between Cory's dark eyebrows as the beginnings of a frown developed.

"How do you mean?"

"I just talked Angela into going to the Prom with Ted Brazelton. I told you what I found out about that sleazebag. Please tell me I'm not an idiot."

Cory pursed his lips. "Well, that would depend on your reason for telling Angela to go with him," he responded sagely. He spread his hands. "Are you still trying to play by the 'rules'?"

Shawn nodded miserably. "Trying to, but everything in me wants to call Angela and tell her not to go with him." He leaned down and laid his forehead on the cool oak surface of the table. "All I can think about is that smug bastard with his hands all over my girl. I get sick inside, and then this other part of me wants to rip his head off." Shawn's head popped up and as he gazed at Cory the torment he was feeling showed in the depths of his eyes. "I'm not sure I can even make it to prom night much less actually watch him with Angela. You know he's gonna try to push my buttons to tick me off, and with the way I feel right now, I can't promise that there won't be trouble even though I know I'll be playing right into his hands." He rubbed his hands over his face. "What should I do? Am I crazy for telling Angela to go with him? How am I gonna keep my cool? Why did all this shit have to happen?" he asked moodily.

Cory sighed at being peppered with so many questions and having so few answers. He couldn't remember a time when they'd both been so low. He wanted to reassure Shawn and buoy his spirits, but with the problems Cory himself was facing with his own his girlfriend, he hardly knew what to tell him. So he opted for honesty.

"I don't know, buddy. All I can say is I'm sorry for the part I played in this," he said, looking down at his hands. "Getting drunk and getting us pulled over."

Shawn waved away his apology. He and Angela had already told him they didn't hold it against him. And they didn't.

"It's not your fault, man. Angela told me that her father has some kind of problem with her mother who ran out on 'em and is sorta taking it out on us. Who knows what would have happened to trigger it eventually, so please...just stop blaming yourself."

Cory looked up.

"Okay," he acceded, although his feelings of guilt quietly remained intact. "Well, anyway, I'll help you as much as I can to keep it your temper under control when the time comes, but," he paused, exhaling loudly, "I don't know if going or staying is the right answer. You've done pretty well with this whole thing so far though, so I say don't second guess yourself now."

Shawn pondered his advice. Well, he hadn't really given him any, but the support was appreciated and his last statement was helping to calm him.

"Thanks Cor." He sat back, some of the tension physically draining from his body. "So much is riding on the decisions I—we make these days—that I just don't want to make a mistake. Angela's counting on me."

Cory smiled but couldn't help feeling a little jealous in spite of Shawn's predicament. At least he knew that Angela loved him and wanted to be with him. For the first time in years he was uncertain about his own romantic future. Topanga hadn't yielded on her their break up so far; she didn't seem like she would any time soon either. And he was miserable.

They sat together, both caught up with their own problems, not realizing that several minutes had passed without either speaking a word, yet comforted by each other's presence. However, when the doorbell chimed, both jumped, startled out of their respective reveries.

When Cory got up but went over to the refrigerator instead of heading for the door that separated the kitchen from the living room, Shawn turned and regarded him curiously.

"Hey, you gonna get that?"

"No," Cory said with a shake of his head as he walked over and handed Shawn a can of cold soda. "My Dad's monitoring all visitors." He rolled his eyes and sat down. "He'll be down to get it."

Accepting this explanation, Shawn absently began to twirl his can on the table using the tip of one finger to propel the heavy aluminum cylinder.

"I wish this mess was over already," he lamented. "And the funny thing is that for the first time I was actually looking forward to it because of Angela." He sighed and would have said more, but Alan poked his head into the kitchen.

"Cory?"

"Yeah Dad," he said, turning to look at his father.

"You...uh…have more company."

Given his situation, Cory looked understandably surprised. He quickly glanced at Shawn and then back at Alan. "You gonna let me have more company?" he asked in confusion. His Dad had been pretty strict since his grounding and now he was being allowed two visitors. He could understand Shawn, but… Wait! That could only mean—

"Hey, Cory," a feminine voice, distinctly familiar in its tone and sweetness, said softly.

While Cory stared, she sauntered up to the table as breezily as if they hadn't been broken up and she hadn't been steadfastly ignoring him for…oh, like forever.

"Uh…hey, Topanga," he uttered with an awkward hesitancy as he got to his feet.

While the two stared at each other, Alan discreetly motioned for Shawn to come with him.

He jumped up with alacrity, and with a last look at his two friends, he followed Alan out.

As the door swung for the final time on its hinges, Topanga wasted little time and walked right up to him.

"Cory, I want us to get back together," she said in her forthright way.

Cory's mouth fell open. Topanga looked up into his startled brown eyes and placed her hand under his chin, pressing it upward until his mouth closed.

"Don't look so stunned."

"Well..I mean…well, I am…sorta," Cory responded, unable to hide his shock. He was nothing if not honest. This declaration coming as it did on the heels of her unexpected visit _had_ surprised him. "I mean, I want to and all, but…aren't gonna make me grovel and beg and basically humiliate myself to get you back?" Hid voice was ripe with doubt yet the heaviness that had been a steady presence in his chest was beginning to lift ever so faintly.

"No," Topanga said firmly. Her sea form eyes held a light of determination and…remorse?

"You made a mistake, Cory, and it's over. I know you didn't mean to hurt me," she said, taking his hand and entwining her slim fingers with his.

He glanced down at their hands. It felt so good to touch her again. To know that they were close to repairing the mess he'd made of their relationship because of one careless, thoughtless mistake. He tightened his grip as a tiny smile lifted the corners of his mouth.

Topanga's voice made him look up from his preoccupation. "Cory, it shouldn't have taken me this long to forgive you." She now looked down at their hands. "You did hurt me, but…I think you hurt my pride worst of all."

Cory tilted his head. "Your pride?"

She still had her head down, but she sensed knew instantly what he was asking. This was going to be harder than she'd first imagined. She glanced up briefly into the inquiring but kindly eyes and relaxed. She could do this because this was Cory. She knew that, unlike herself, he wouldn't judge her. He wouldn't find her wanting.

"There's no easy way to put this, but as much as I was hurt because I love you, Cory, I was even more upset about you being the one to cheat one me," she tried to explain. "I'm Topanga Lawrence, and this wasn't supposed to happen to me. People are supposed to envy me, emulate me, and want to be me. They're not supposed to feel sorry for me or feel superior to me. I…just couldn't take." She averted her eyes from his steady gaze. "And so," she added, after pausing to breathe, "I took it out on you. I blamed you for the pitying looks, the snickers and the cruel gossip."

Cory encased both their hands in his free one, giving the bundle a comforting squeeze.

"Topanga—"

"No," she said with a shake of her head, "you've got to let me finish. Please don't take this the wrong way, Cory, because I think you're as cute a guy as they come, but…" she paused, squeezed her eyes shut and bit her lip. She didn't even know how to say what had been in her heart eating away at her all these months. How pathetic was that?

She felt Cory hands release her own, and his arms slip around her waist.

"Topanga," he began, pulling her into him. "I understand. And believe me; I'm shocked and grateful that someone as beautiful and accomplished as you is with someone like me."

Topanga turned her face into his chest. "You shouldn't feel that way. And if you do, I'm the blame for it," she muttered. "I'm so ashamed of myself. This whole break up has made me see what a conceited, self-satisfied bitch I've been. No wonder Lauren was able to tempt you. She saw how wonderful and funny and…and _good_ you are, Cory. She appreciated you for you while I was too busy feeling superior and entitled." She sniffed and raised her head to look up at him. "I really love you, Cory Matthews, and if you don't mind having such a complete idiot for a girlfriend, I want us to be together again. Not like we used to be though. We'll be equals this time around. And if you decide you want that, I'd like you to be my escort to the prom. I mean, if you want to," she added rather shyly. "If…you know…you don't already have a date, that is."

Cory leaned down and pressed his lips to hers in a gently sweet kiss that conveyed his feelings while simultaneously giving Topanga her answer.

He raised his head slightly and leaned his forehead against hers.

"I would be proud to go to the prom with you, Ms. Lawrence. And thank you for giving me the benefit of the doubt, but you know I'd never, ever take anyone else to our senior prom, Topanga," he assured her as he pulled his head back and dipped it to look into her eyes which had lit up brightly as he spoke.

They remained like that, alternately talking and kissing. During the make out portion of one interval, Shawn cautiously stuck his head into the room. His concerned expression changed as soon as he spied them.

"Thank God!" he intoned dramatically as he came forward.

Cory and Topanga turned their heads and grinned at him.

"I don't think I could have taken anymore bad news," Shawn declared. He stopped beside them, placing one hand on Cory's shoulder and the other on Topanga's.

"So does this mean that you two are back together where you belong?" He transferred his gaze back and forth from one to the other. Since he was grinning ear to ear, he'd obviously anticipated the answer but wanted confirmation nonetheless.

Topanga nodded, laying her head on Cory's chest. She beamed at Shawn.

"Yeah, this guy decided to put me out of my misery," she explained, "so we're a couple again."

Cory hugged her tight. "She also asked me to the prom. It's gonna be our first official date since our break up. My grounding ends the day before."

Shawn's grin dimmed a little when the prom was mentioned, but he covered it well.

"I'm really glad, you guys. You two not being together was just…weird, ya know?"

"I know," Topanga admitted as she rubbed her hands along Cory's back. "I really have to thank Angela for giving me a swift kick in the pants when I needed it. She really made me see how stupid and stubborn I was being."

Cory reared back in surprise. "So I have Angela to thank for this? I knew I liked that girl, and now I know why," he joked.

Topanga giggled, but she noticed that although Shawn smiled at the gentle humor, it didn't reach his eyes. In fact, they held a distinct gleam of…sadness.

"Hey, you and Angela worked things out, didn't you, Shawn?" she asked.

Shawn walked away from them and leaned against the island counter, his eyes on his hands as the nail of one thumb traced along the nail bed of the other.

"We made up," he said with a pause, "but she's going to the prom with Ted."

Topanga tore herself from Cory's arms and stalked over to Shawn. "Angela would never do that," she said fiercely, her hands on her hips.

"She didn't want to," he said slowly, eyes still downcast. "In fact, she wasn't going to until I told her she should."

"What? Why?" she demanded. "Why the hell would you do a thing like that?"

"Calm down, Topanga," Cory said, his voice softly chiding. "Don't be upset with Shawn. He's only doing this so he and Angela can be together at the prom since Sergeant Moore won't let him take her. Well, that and so her Dad doesn't have something else to hold against him."

Topanga raised her hands to her head and raked through her long blond hair.

"This is…this is _bullshit_!"

Cory's eyes got big, and Shawn's head snapped up. He raised an eyebrow. Neither had ever heard Topanga cuss before.

"Well, it is," she said defiantly. "We're all supposed to go together. That's how Angela and I planned it. Prom night is supposed to be special. And now, Cory and I are back together, and you and Angela are the ones still broken up. Not even because you want to be, but all because of her asshole father!"

Shawn pressed his lips together to suppress a smile. Although the though of Angela being with Ted while he stood on the sidelines depressed him, hearing prudish Topanga express herself so colorfully was out of character and yet strangely endearing. He knew the core of her anger arose from her love and loyalty to Angela and to him.

He eventually gave in, grinning as he hugged Topanga. When they separated, Topanga gazed at him with sympathy while he returned her look with a fond one of his own.

"I'm so glad that you and Cory are our friends," he said, his tone sincere and then paused briefly before adding, "and if it's not too much, there's one thing you could do for me."

Topanga leaned against Cory who was standing at her back.

"Anything," she said simply.

"Would you…find out what plans Sergeant Moore has for Angela and…Ted?" It hurt him to even say the guy's name in conjunction with his sweetheart. While it had bothered him before, now that he knew that Ted was Angela's prom date, his had dislike intensified tenfold and mentioning them in the same breath sent of spasm of physical pain through to his abdomen.

"I'd ask her myself, if she even knows, but I know Ted's watching us at school." He paused and sighed with frustration. "I don't want to sneak around to see her because it'll only make this whole thing worse for us if her fath—"

"Shawn." She laid a hand on his arm. "You don't have to explain. I'll do it. I'll talk to Angela tonight." She bit her lip thoughtfully. "I'm guessing you want to know if Ted's taking her in his car or if he or her Dad is renting a limo for them," she guessed shrewdly.

Good ol' Topanga. Shawn breathed a sigh of relief at not having to explain himself. And he was grateful for her assistance. He was so glad to have her back in their camp and actively participating. He'd missed her big brain.

"Topanga, you're the best. That's exactly what I want to know. But that's not all. I want you and Cory to double with them that night."

"But what about you?" Cory asked hastily before his girlfriend could.

Shawn shook his head. "It doesn't matter about me. I'm going stag anyway. So I'll just ask Jack if I can have his car." He shrugged. "I'm pretty sure he'll do it. He's…actually been really cool during this whole thing with Angela," he admitted and was surprised by how good that knowledge made him feel. He realized in that moment just how much he'd grown to depend on his brother and his support during the last several weeks.

After a few more reassurances of help from both Topanga and Cory, Shawn took his leave. As much as he had wanted to see Cory and avoid being alone with his thoughts, it was something he now craved. Besides that, he also felt that the reunited couple could do with some alone time, too, and should take advantage of this opportunity to be together, especially since Cory was still under punishment.

Cory and Topanga made the most of their time, so when Alan announced that Cory's time was up, the two parted regretfully. Yet the regret was mitigated by the knowledge that it was just temporary, and each elatedly looked forward to the morrow.

~~*~~

Topanga was as good as her word. The next day she informed Shawn that Sergeant Moore, after some nudging from Angela, had spilled that he had rented a limousine for prom night. And Angela, as planned by Shawn and as explained to her by Topanga, had insisted that Topanga and Cory be allowed to accompany them.

The ease with which her request had been met and granted shocked Angela, so much so that she'd thrown herself into her father's arms from happiness. As she held onto him, she felt for perhaps the first time since that awful night that she had her father back, if only for a short time, and not the unreasonable dictator who'd taken his place.

Still, the last few days before the prom were anxious ones for Angela. She supposed that Shawn wasn't in any better state. However, there had been one bright spot: She had jumped four places up from twelve to eighth in the class standings.

Topanga had been named class salutatorian, right behind Minkus who thankfully forbore rubbing it in her face. Since reconciling with Cory, Topanga had been less stressed and so took the news better than expected.

They both wanted to celebrate with their boyfriends, but Cory still had two days to go on his grounding while Shawn had to remain on the fringes of their little group at school because of Ted's ever present watchful eyes.

His sole consolation had been that ever since the truth about Ted's sexual proclivities had come out, destroying his wholesome image, she studious avoided him whenever she could. She continued to be successful in her avoidance, and Topanga assisted in ensuring that Angela and Ted were never alone in those instances where he annoyingly persisted.

Cory and Topanga's reconciliation had another benefit to it. Now that Cory could join the girls whenever their dummy classes allowed, Ted found other places to be much to Angela's relief because while Ted kept tabs on her to make sure that Shawn stayed away, Shawn hovered as much as he could to ensure that Ted didn't try to take liberties with Angela. All in all, it was a tense situation, and so as much as she'd been dreading its arrival, when prom night finally hailed, Angela actually welcomed it. Her only thought was getting it over with already and having her dance with Shawn.

That evening, she was putting the finishing touches on her make-up while Topanga put the finishing touches on her own hair as she stood bending over Angela to look into the vanity's mirror.

They'd decided that it would be better for Topanga to be there when Ted arrived, thus guaranteeing that Angela wasn't alone with him. Another advantage was that they'd only have to make one stop to pick up Cory.

Giving in to the temptation posed by the imp of mischief sitting on her shoulder, Angela couldn't wait to see Ted's face when he saw Topanga. She assumed that he was unaware of the change in plans. He hadn't mentioned anything about it to her, and that omission seemed to confirm that he lack of being in the know.

Topanga patted on last curl in place. "Well, that's the best I can do," she said for the tenth time. She made a little moue of dissatisfaction. "My hair's so thick and heavy, I feel like it's gonna come down any minute."

Angela turned on the vanity seat to look at her. "Tee, we put at least a hundred bobby pins that that hair. So it ain't goin' anywhere, okay," she assured her with a sigh. "I'm not gonna like it if you mess up your hair after all the time we spent on it this afternoon, Topanga." It was a clear warning.

"Oh, who're you to talk? You've got naturally curly hair, and those cute little ringlets are shining and bouncing in all the right places, Ange." Her hand drifted to her head again but the look in Angela's eyes made her rethink that move. "Oh, alright. I'll keep my hands out of it."

Angela mouthed a silent 'thank you' just before she rolled her eyes.

"You're so grumpy," Topanga groused unfairly.

Angela's dark eyes flashed with anger. "I think I have reason to be," she retorted heatedly, but then the defiance in her eyes died. Her bottom lip trembled and her shoulders slumped. . She cut a curiously dichotomous figure on the dainty little vanity seat: glamorous yet somehow lackluster. It was as if an internal light had dimmed. "I miss Shawn, and here I am getting ready to go out with the lowest piece of scum on earth. And what's so ironic is my overprotective father's the one who's bank rolling this…this," she paused, searching for the appropriate word, "this [i]travesty[/i]. So if you were me," she added with a little of her former fire, "I think you'd be a bit out of sorts, too."

"Aww," Topanga said and knelt by her friend to give her a hug. Angela gripped her tightly before releasing her. "I'm sorry," she said to Angela. "I have no idea how you feel." She began to tear up.

Angela emitted a small grunt. "Okay, we've got to stop this." She vigorous flapped her hands near her face in an effort to dry up the moisture threatening to breach the rims of her eyes. "I'm not applying anymore mascara and eyeliner."

"Me, either," Topanga said with a soft laugh as she carefully wiped under her eyes with the pads of both index fingers.

"Thanks for being here, Tee. You've been a great friend through all of this."

"You'd do no less for me, Ange. I owe part of my being back with Cory in time for this party to you, so don't mention it."

"Okay, I won't." Angela grinned. Eyes dry and no longer a threat to her make-up, she reached for her small evening bag and began filling it with a credit card, money, a slender tube of lip gloss, a small pack of oil blotting paper and a miniature sized comb.

"There," she announced, standing. "I'm as ready as I'll ever be."

Topanga glanced at the clock on the night stand and sighed. "Yeah. Me, too, I guess."

"Girl, you're spending the evening with the man of your dreams. Don't let my situation get you down. And by the way," Angela said, circling Topanga, "you look amazing."

She really did look amazing in the soft pink taffeta gown with a v-shaped décolletage with a cinched waist and a full flowing skirt. Her bare shoulders rose from a filmy cloud of off white organza. Four inch strappy sandals covered her feet and matched the silver bell-shaped evening bag that hung from a short, grey woven strap. The gown set the tone for the upswept hairdo, combed back from her forehead, with a high crown of pinned sausage sized curls.

Her make-up matched the princess look; soft and sheer so that only the frosted pink lip gloss really stood out, accentuating her full lips, and the hint of mauve eye shadow that made her aqua eyes pop.

Topanga smiled widely. "I'm not too bad, am I?"

"No, you're not." She moved towards the bedroom door. "Cory's jaw is gonna hit the floor when he sees you. Okay, let's get this show on the road."

Once downstairs, the girls were unnerved by the oppressive quiet. When fifteen minutes passed and still no Ted or even her father on hand, Angela began to wonder if something was wrong. The two of them sitting alone in her living room after six thirty, awaiting the arrival of Angela's hated erstwhile boyfriend was a far cry from how they'd imagined this night.

"Well, I sure thought Ted would be here early." Angela gazed around with a slight frown on her face. "And I knew my Dad would be front and center since this whole thing is his idea," she said crossly.

"Ange, something doesn't feel right." She looked worried, too.

"I know," Angela agreed, still frowning. "Something's off."

As the words left her mouth, the doorbell rang, and Angela's stomach dropped. The moment of truth had come; one she'd alternately dreaded and anticipated, if that made any sense.

"Well, I guess we were wrong," Topanga said and looking at Angela's tense expression, she got up to get the door.

As she opened it, with words primed to flay the skin off of Ted's nose for being late, she paused and gawked.

"What're—"

"Where's Angela?" Shawn cried wildly, storming past her on his way to the stairs. "What happened? Is she alright? Does she need to go to the hospital? Will someone tell me something, damn it!"

Topanga hastily closed the door and grabbed his arm to pull him back. "What're you talking about? Angela's in the living room," she replied as she headed for the living room, pulling him behind her. "See." She pointed to her friend.

Seeing who it was, Angela gasped and jumped up. "Shawn!"

"Angela, baby," he cried, his face anguished. He rushed over to her, catching her up in his arms. "Are you okay? What happened?"

"What do you mean 'what happened'?" Angela asked in confusion, but her voice was muffled. Shawn had her head pressed tightly to his chest.

"Baby, you're smothering me!" she said mumbled and struggled a little within the steel bands of his arms.

"Shawn, let her go." Topanga pulled Angela away from him. "What's this all about?" she asked hands on her hips. "Why would you barge in here thinking something was wrong with Angela?"

"Because Eric took a call and told me that I needed to get over to Angela's right away. I was about to head out, but Jack saw how upset I was and wouldn't let me drive," he answered, glancing at her quickly before transferring his gaze back to Angela. "He's waiting for me outside in the…" his voice faded as he searched every inch of her when it finally dawned on him that Angela was perfectly alright. She looked better than alright; she looked…

"Beautiful," Shawn whispered, and started when he realized that he'd spoken out loud.

Angela smiled, and with her arms held out from her sides, pirouetted for him.

"Do you like it, Shawn?" she asked demurely. She regarded him from under the sweep of her lashes, waiting for his response.

With the anxiety concerning her safety diminishing rapidly, Shawn's mind was beginning to clear. Yes, he liked…no, loved how she looked. Her naturally pretty face was flawless. Smoky blue and grey eye shadow brought out the elusive coppery lights in the deep brown eyes. The lashes surrounding them were black and long. Her lips were dark red.

Her hair was pulled back from her face, smoothing her curls into tiny waves. The rest of it curled into shining small spirals, cascading from a diamond studded pin nestled at the top of her head. A few tendrils framed her forehead and face.

But it was the gown that caught his attention. Dark blue silk hugged the slender curves of her body. It had a strapless neckline gently exposing the tops of her breasts and a mermaid skirt that molded to her midriff, hips and thighs before flaring out at the knees. Dainty sandals, encrusted with tiny clear crystals that match her necklace and bracelet peeped out from beneath the folds of material.

Shawn's throat constricted at the picture she made, and pride swelled his heart before reality intruded.

"Shawn," Angela began, looking at his anxiously now. He hadn't said a word for a full minute. "Do you like it?"

"Too much," he said in a husky voice. But then he cleared his throat, as something else occurred to him. "And that asshole's gonna like it, too."

Angela's pleased expression evaporated. "I bought this gown to look good for you, Shawn. Not for him."

He knew what she was saying was true, but it still irked him that Ted was her date and got to be with while she was dressed like that.

He vigorously rubbed his hands over his face and tried to keep calm. "I know, but that doesn't make me feel any better when that creep gets see you," he muttered, "up close and personal all night. He gets to be your escort while I have to stand on the sidelines."

"Huh uh. That's where you're wrong."

The teenagers' heads whipped around.

"Dad!

"I can explain, sir!"

"Sergeant Moore, Shawn was just…uh…he—"

"It's alright," he interjected, holding up his hands as he stepping down from the bottom stair. "I'm the reason Shawn's here."

They all gaped at him as if he'd grown two more heads while he looked on calmly.

"I guess I better explain."

"Sir, my brother's outside waiting for me," Shawn cut in, recovering his bearings a little ahead of the girls. "Can I just tell him Angela's alright?"

"You can do one better than that, Shawn. Invite Jack in here. He might as well hear this, too."

While Shawn left to get Jack, Angela confronted her father. "Dad, you talked to Eric? What did you say? Shawn was frantic when he got here."

"I know I have a lot of explaining to do," Sergeant Moore confessed. "But let's wait until Shawn and Jack join us." He shook his head, his expression rueful. "I don't want to do this more than once."

Angela gave Topanga a sidelong glance before nodding.

Shawn was back with Jack in record time. The brothers attire was a study of contrasts with Jack in casualy dressed in faded jeans and a plain white tee and Shawn in his formal tux with a pristine white dress shirt and black tie. As they entered the living room, Alvin Moore preempted Jack's greeting in favor of getting down to business.

"Let's all sit down." Everyone followed suit. Angela sat with Shawn, his hand in hers while Topanga sat next to Angela. This left Jack to take one chair as Alvin lowered himself into the other.

"I'm going to get straight to the point. I was wrong about Shawn, and I made some pretty stupid decisions because of it. Maybe my willingness to believe the worst of you had something to do with your being white, Shawn. I…honestly don't know at this point," he admitted, looking directly at Shawn. "It's…something I'll have to give more thought to. However, once I'd dug myself in so deep, I didn't know how to get out the hole I was in, and my pride may have had a little something to do with the way I went about things tonight. Nevertheless, I want to apologize to you and my daughter for my behavior. I never realized how stubborn I was being until I overhead you two and that Cherise girl last week."

Angela's mouth opened in a startled part. "You heard us?"

Shawn looked at her and squeezed her hand but said nothing as he turned back to Alvin.

"Yes, I did, honey. And I admit that it shouldn't have taken overhearing that conversation for me to recognize how wrong I'd been." Alvin took a deep breath and ran his large hands over his jean covered thighs. "I should have re-evaluated my stance when Shawn called me the night you went over there, Angela," he said to his daughter. "My only excuse is that I guess I really believed that Brazelton boy would be a good alternative to Shawn. Again, I-I have to revisit my conscience as to why I thought that," he added, gazing down at his hands. "I only hope you can forgive me, baby."

He didn't raise his eyes and so when Angela stood in front of him, he looked up. Her eyes were shimmering, and he knew that she was close to tears.

"I forgive you." She held out her arms. "I love you so much Daddy."

Alvin stood up and embraced her, holding her tightly as if he would never let her go.

"I love you, too, baby. Always."

They stood like that a few moments before Angela pulled away, saying, "As much as I love you, Daddy, if I have to redo my make-up, I'm gonna kill you." The smile on her face said otherwise though.

Alvin laughed softly. Topanga and Jack smiled. Shawn dug inside his jacket pocket and came over to press a handkerchief into her hand.

She looked at it in surprise before taking it.

"It was Jack's idea," Shawn confessed sheepishly.

Jack laughed as she thanked him. "It's what big brother's do. When he thought that something had happened to you, Angela, I thought he was gonna have to use it himself."

"Jack!" Shawn's face turned beet red. He turned his head to his brother. "You're embarrassing me," he said out one corner of his mouth, his tone low.

"Oh, sorry," his brother said unapologetically. Shawn cast his eyes heavenward and turned back to Angela who was sharing the handkerchief with Topanga.

"I'm sorry, too, Shawn," Angela's father said.

Before Shawn could respond, the doorbell rang, prompting Angela to leave the group to get it.

"That's probably the limousine service, Angela," her father called out before turning his attention back to Shawn.

Shawn turned back from watching Angela, too. "What was that, sir?"

"I'm sorry that your friend scared you. That's my fault. I just told him you needed to get over here. I should have asked to speak with you directly, but I took the easy way out. Or so I thought." He sighed and shook his head at his actions. "If I hadn't been such a coward, I would have sat you and Angela down days ago and avoided all of this confusion."

Shawn looked at Alvin with sympathy. He could be generous in extending that now. "It's okay, sir. I had a few bad few moments. Okay, a really, really bad half an hour, but it's over with now. And no, sir, you're not a coward," he added magnanimously.

Alvin tilted his head. "I think you mean that."

"Yes, sir."

Alvin nodded, and then cleared his throat. "Anyway, I called Ted this evening and told him that I couldn't let him escort Angela. When he got a little upset with me, I suggested he call Cerise and ask her. That shut up him quick."

Shawn grinned. "I bet it did."

Smiling, he slapped Shawn on the back. "Well, enough about all of that. It's in the past. Besides," he said, raising his arm to give his watch a cursory glance, "it's time for you kids to go."

"Daddy's right," Angela said, coming over to them. "The limo's here." There was a definite lilt of excitement in her voice. "The driver's waiting outside."

"It's just passing seven," Topanga chimed in after glancing at the clock on the wall. "We need to go before Cory starts wondering where we are. I bet he looks so handsome in his tux. And you know, Mrs. Matthews is gonna want to take pictures."

A light bulb seemed to go off over Alvin's head. "Hey. That's a great idea." He started toward the stairs. "I promise you can go right after I take a few shots," he tossed over his shoulder. "I only have one daughter, and she only has one prom. Be right back."

Angela groaned. "Now we'll never get out of here," she pouted, turning to Shawn. "I want to be alone with you."

"Patience, baby," he whispered in her ear. "I'm so happy right now. Nothing could bring me down."

"You're right," she whispered back. "This is gonna be a night to remember."

Less than a minute later, Alvin came running down the stairs. Pictures were taken in various poses and in varying combinations: first Angela and Shawn, who made a gorgeous couple with Shawn in his black tux with his chestnut brown hair combed back from his face, and of course, Angela, stunning in the navy gown. Then it was Angela and Topanga smiling into the lens; Angela, Shawn and Topanga cheesing for posterity; and lastly, the three of them, with Jack and then Alvin.

Finally, it was time to go, and the four trouped through the door. Jack drove off before they did as the girls gingerly minced their way to the limousine with the hems of their gowns held up to protect them from the dusty ground.

They were safely ensconced in the back when Alvin more walked up to the vehicle, went around the side, and leaned down at the driver's window with last minute instructions.

Once that was done, he moved over a couple of feet to the passenger's window where Angela sat. Shawn was next to her while Topanga sat across from them on the adjacent seat.

Before Angela began fumbling for the correct button to lower the glass, the window rolled down.

Alvin sat on his hunches, making his head level with the opening.

"Angela, your curfew's been extended to two o'clock," he said looking at each teenager in turn. "Think that's enough time for you guys to party hearty?"

Angela snickered softly at the old fashioned term. "Yes, Daddy," she concurred, her tone respectful in spite of her mirth. "Thank you, Daddy." She leaned over, extending her cheek to him.

Alvin obliged, lightly brushing her cheek with his lips. "You're welcome, baby."

He straightened, pounded the hood of the limo and stepped back. As he gazed after the disappearing limo, watching it grow smaller with distance, taking his little girl further and further away, a faintly wry smile curved his lips. He'd done the right thing, and it felt good. He and Angela could get their relationship back on track.

He had no regrets about his actions that night; it was just that tonight, to him, signified the end of Angela's childhood, and with the advent of his daughter's adulthood looming just over a not so distant hill, he found himself equal parts proud and regretful. Nevertheless, as he imagined her happiness, his somber mood lifted and lighted.

Yes, some things were ending tonight, but others were just beginning. He would take heart in that: in having Angela home for college, and in having a young man like Shawn in her life. It was more than he'd hoped for recently, and it would, therefore, be enough. Alvin's lips curved into a genuine smile as he went into his house.

~*~

As the limousine sped down the highway, Shawn glanced at Topanga and seeing that she had her eyes closed with a dreamy expression on her face, he leaned over and pressed a kiss onto Angela's lips. She immediately responded, returning the pressure before he lifted his head.

They gazed into each other's eyes. Angela trailed her fingers down the side of his cheek in a loving caress before he sat back with her hand in his and her head resting on his shoulder. There'd been no need for words. As Angela had said earlier, it was going to be a night to remember...for always.

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**A/N: **My thanks to everyone single one of you who read the story, with a special shout out to those who also left reviews (the encouragement was and is appreciated). The story is now complete, and I hope you enjoyed it. Peace!


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